


Clash of the Conjurers

by llorolalluvia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 187,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llorolalluvia/pseuds/llorolalluvia
Summary: In a world where the mere flap of a butterfly's wing can cause a hurricane on the other side of the globe, can one simple glance save a man's life? When Hermione and her professor are forced together against their will, can they overcome their differences, find order amidst the chaos, and save the Wizarding World? not Cannon compliant.





	1. Chapter 1

Swirling darkness twisted the night air around him. A hundred faceless men stood witnesses to this horrible scene.  _Traitor_ , the harsh wind seemed to whisper and the rustling robes of his audience echoed the sentiment.  _They knew_.

A single pillar of smoke stepped forward from the wall of black surrounding him, as if a slice of the very night drew closer with a cackling laughter at odds with fluidity of the scene. "Traitor!"

His body shook from a wicked curse at the point of the other man's wand. The moment had come; the moment he had dreaded for a lifetime, but had always expected: he was going to die.

Red eyes glowed from within the depth of the limitless black. Eyes he knew could see straight into his mind, past his flesh, past his fears, into his very soul. For a moment he feared that his soul, tainted as it may have been, would be ripped from his body as if from the kiss of a dementor. But he was powerless to stop it. "Avada Kedavra!"

Severus gasped in a gulp of air so hard that it strangled him. The room was dark, but the cheap, harsh light of Spinner's End filtered in through his moth-eaten curtains and he could see that the only things twisting around him were his own threadbare sheets. Wiping a clammy palm across his sweat-soaked brow, Severus panted a moment more before slipping out of bed and heading to the bathroom for a cold shower.

It was that place in between asleep and awake that he most dreaded. There, paranoia could seep into his very bones, and he could believe even his worst nightmares. It was for this reason, each time sleep brought such visions of horror, that he immediately sought the cognizance of being awake.

" _Merlin_ ," he groaned as the cold water poured down his back. He had accepted long ago that he would not survive the final conflict between the Dark Lord and Potter, but that acceptance did not make it any less frightening. Not that he had much to live for, but he feared for the fate of his soul in its tattered condition.  _Life_  had been its own brand of hell. If the afterlife was worse, he had good reason to fear death.

* * *

The Butterfly Effect. It was such a whimsical name for something so complex and difficult to comprehend. Hermione Granger stared up at the ceiling over her bed, biting her nails as she contemplated the text she was currently immersed in. Her hair fell like a bushy waterfall over the edge of the mattress and her legs were stretched out up the wall beside her bed. A heavy hardback rested on her stomach, opened against her blouse, the pages crinkling slightly with the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

Having run out of books on magic that she hadn't read several times already, Hermione had delved into her parents' 'philosophy and science' shelf. Chaos theory, she mused, was a decidedly unnerving idea. Her mind immediately made the jump to Harry and Voldemort and what it could mean for the future of the Wizarding World. If something as simple as a glance in someone's direction could have an effect profound enough to alter that person's future…

Hermione breathed in deeply. She knew it wasn't as simple as that. Every movement in the entire world sent out ripples and was caused by ripples. Perhaps the fate of humanity had been determined the moment the stars were born. This was why she so loved Arithmancy. If every action or reaction was caused by something else, and every cause could be calculated after the fact, did that mean that the future was already set in stone like the other side of the equals sign in a mathematical equation and that adding up every miniscule variable would, in effect, predict the future?

Suddenly, Hermione's hair was yanked painfully as her beloved ginger kitty, Crookshanks, caved to the temptation of the dangling curls. "Ouch!" Hermione swung her legs back down and flipped over to stare down at the fat, orange menace. "What was that for?!" She laughed into his squished face as he looked up at her with an ironic expression. Reaching down, she grabbed hold of the fluffy culprit and dragged him onto the bed beside her. "Oh, Crooks. What am I going to do? The World is in chaos and we may have a war by the end of the year! And yet, I find myself hoping that it can wait just a little longer so that I can at least take my NEWTS." She cringed at her own admission. Voicing the thought aloud made it seem so much more selfish than it had in her head. But they were about to begin their seventh year at Hogwarts, and she had been looking forward to the NEWTS since she'd first known she was a witch.

"Hermione!" her mother's voice called from the bottom of the stairs. "Supper's ready!" Hermione sighed. Tonight was her last night at home with her family before going to stay at Order Headquarters with Harry and Ron. She was going to miss her parents desperately, especially because she couldn't be sure she would ever see them again. But she was looking forward to seeing her friends and spending the rest of the summer planning for their final year at Hogwarts and the inevitable upcoming war.

* * *

"Albus, old fool, surely you must realize that the boy is pitifully ill equipped to challenge the Dark Lord. Your platitudes will not suffice to bring him to the cusp of victory. Your  _Golden Boy_  needs a taste of bitter reality." Severus was pacing the small study in aggravation as he spoke to his colleague. His mood was made darker with his own powerlessness to rid the old man of the insufferable twinkle that forever seemed to emanate from those penetrating, blue eyes.

"You underestimate the boy, Severus," the Headmaster cheerfully replied. Severus snorted at that absurdity.

"Someone has to be realistic, Albus. Someone has to see beyond the façade of flawlessness you've wrapped around the boy. We are all doomed if  _you_  have bought into it, yourself."

"And I suppose you believe that you would be better qualified to prepare Harry for this upcoming conflict?" Severus suppressed a retort at the old man's blasé attitude.

"Yes."

"Fine." Severus froze in his steps and turned to look at the older wizard.

"What?"

"I said…" Albus drew out, slowly, "'fine.' Now if that is all?" The Headmaster began to stand, a process that was made slow by the creaking of his old joints as he pried himself from the squashy cushions of the old couch.

"What do you mean 'if that is all'?" Severus shouted, leaning his weight against the back of an armchair facing the professor. "Of course it's not bloody all! You know what I am asking, Albus, and I know you have an answer. Now, enough with your petty mind games!"

"Alright, Severus. There's no need to shout." Severus growled angrily at this pronouncement. The old goat really knew how to rile his temper.  _I shouldn't give him so much power._  "I will contact Horace tomorrow. If—that is an  _if_ , Severus—he agrees to resume his old position, I will allow you to take up the post as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor." By the magnanimous way with which Albus bestowed this great kindness upon Severus, he had no doubt that the old man had been eagerly anticipating making that announcement. For Severus, however, there was no monumental sentiment in the achievement of acquiring a position he had asked for every summer for sixteen years. Rather, he sighed tiredly and relaxed against the chair beneath his grip.

"Thank you," he murmured. A small part of him was merely pleased that he would have the opportunity to teach his favorite subject before he died. He loved Potions because that was who he was. But he loved the Dark Arts and defense against them because he had been seduced by them himself and he knew, better than almost anyone, the price one paid for succumbing to that dark temptation.

In his position as a spy, Severus never had the opportunity to fight off the Dark Arts. He was forced to embrace them. Yet, in his mind, those defenses would play out again and again as if on a loop in lieu of fulfillment. More than anything, he wanted to fight against the temptress; the siren of the darkness. And he would do so, but only vicariously, through his students. Finally, he would have retribution.

* * *

Grimmauld Place was the den of chaos that Hermione had always expected it to be. What she never remembered, however, was how tiring that chaos could be after a day of listening to Fred and George teasing Ginny, while Harry caught up with Sirius, and Ron drooled after Fleur Delacour. The half-veela was about to be married to his brother, for Merlin's sake! Not that she cared, really. Any feelings she may have had for Ron last year had melted away when she realized how shallow he really was. But it did put her at odds with the rest of the people present because she suddenly found that she was the odd one out.

It was for this reason that Hermione had given in to the desire to visit her favorite room in the house. The Black Family library was not particularly impressive, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in eccentricity. From household management charm books to old tomes dealing with the dark arts, one never knew what to expect when picking a book at random from one of the rickety shelves. And after her little dip into chaos theory, picking a book at random was exactly what Hermione had wanted to do.

Unfortunately, the first book she pulled from the shelf was a dusty old guide for preparing severed House elf heads to mount on the wall. Stuffing it back in disgust, Hermione decided that a second choice would still be random. She wrinkled her nose when she drew  _The Magical Mythologies: Witches and Wizards Worshipped by Muggles Willingly_  and almost returned it to its place as well. Something on the cover of the book caught her eye, however, and she pulled it closer for a better look. There, in gold filigree after the title and the name of the author was the sideways 8 that she knew was a symbol for  _infinity_. She smoothed a thumb over the surface of the emblem and smiled. The very same symbol had been sewn throughout her father's chaos theory text.  _The Universe does not play with dice_ , she told herself.

Hours later, she made her way back upstairs to rejoin the madness, only to find that no one was in the boys' room, where they usually spent their evenings.  _Perhaps they've all gone down to the kitchen?_  As she made her way downstairs, the door to the study opened and she froze in her tracks. Professor Dumbledore stepped out of the room, looking rather pleased with himself. She wondered what could have put that dotty smile on his face. He headed straight for the exit and she wondered how long he had been at Grimmauld and if he was planning to return. As the front door closed, she almost returned to her task of descending the stairs, but a faint sound made her stop.

Professor Snape, dreaded Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House stepped out of the study, looking more tired than she had ever seen him. His head was bowed as he closed the door and she watched his shoulders slump as he exhaled deeply, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. For an instant, she was reminded of her reading the day before and a sudden twist of paranoia in her gut made her shiver with the sickening thought that her eyes upon him now could cause a chain reaction somehow leading him to his doom. She shook her head. It could just as easily be the other way around. Then, the moment was gone, and so was her professor.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and continued down the stairs. As she reached the kitchen door, she could hear angry yelling inside. Curious, she stepped into the doorframe. Immediately, her eyes flew wide as she took in the scene before her. Ron and Ginny were shouting across the table at one another, wands drawn. Apparently, the topic was Fleur.

"You just don't know her!" Ron yelled indignantly, his face red in an ugly contrast to his hair.

"Oh, and you do?!" Ginny countered, though Hermione noticed that her own angry blush was somehow beautiful. Ginny had really blossomed in the last couple of years, and the boys had already noticed.

"Well…" Ron sputtered, "I—it's just—she…" Hermione decided that she shouldn't be here. Taking a step backward, she collided with something very solid. She gasped in surprise as long, pale hands reflexively clutched her upper arms. They were gone almost the instant that they touched her bare skin, but not before her head had jerked around to meet the dark, forbidding eyes of Professor Snape. She leapt away from him, back into the kitchen.

"S-sorry, sir," she managed, feeling her cheeks grow hot with embarrassment as his shock faded into an ugly sneer. All it took him was two steps into the kitchen and silence reigned. Hermione spun around to see that her friends' red faces had drained of color in the space of an instant. Such was the Potions Master's talent for terror.

"If you feel the need to continue bickering," he began lazily in that silky baritone, "take it elsewhere." Hermione could see Ron's jaw set in anger and his face was beginning to redden again. "You may be under the impression that this is your home, but allow me to disillusion you of that falsehood. 12 Grimmauld Place is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. And, unless I am much mistaken, the next session of bickering is not scheduled until tomorrow afternoon, when the Headmaster returns." Hermione's jaw dropped at the mocking tone of his voice. Was he making a joke? "Now, go away. I wish to enjoy my tea in peace."

Ron looked like he was going to argue, but Ginny grabbed his arm, shaking her head meaningfully as she dragged him toward the door. Hermione watched them leave, only to find herself alone with Snape. Her cheeks began to heat again with embarrassment as she slipped past him to follow her friends back upstairs.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione followed Ginny and Ron all the way to the top of the stairs where the boys were apparently gathered to watch Sirius feed Buckbeak. She noticed Harry's double-take when Ginny entered the room and was amused to note the boy's faint blush as he pretended to watch Sirius pull out the next dead ferret. Ron quickly joined the other boys while Ginny wrinkled her nose and swept back through the door. In hearty agreement, Hermione followed.

Ginny was sitting up in her bed staring into thin air when Hermione returned to their shared bedroom. The older girl hesitated before approaching her friend. "Ginny? Is something the matter?" Ginny snorted bitterly.

"Is there ever not something the matter?" she replied with a half-smile to lighten the heavy turn in conversation. Hermione smiled back, ignoring the comment.

"You can talk to me, you know," she said softly. Ginny seemed to consider her thoughtfully. The two of them had never really been close. Ginny's real bond to the Trio was through Quidditch more than anything else, and Hermione had never been involved with that. In fact, she had never even realized this negligence to form a relationship with the other girl until now. They had shared a bedroom for a few years now, but there had always been a distance between them. In this moment, Hermione had the sudden impression that she was reaching across the gap, waiting for Ginny to decide if they should bridge it. They were all in this together, after all. And they had plenty in common just from having to put up with Ron and Harry for so many years.

"It's Harry," Ginny confessed. Hermione felt her shoulders relax with a sudden relief and she smiled. "I know he's interested, but he keeps pushing me away. Some nonsense about me becoming more of a target than I already am. I've tried to talk to him, but he won't listen. He's stubborn that way." Ginny's lips turned up in an affectionate smile as she looked down at her feet on the mattress.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione sighed sympathetically. "Harry just doesn't want anyone to get hurt. He really cares about you. I know he does. Every time you enter the room, his eyes latch onto you. I'm sure when this is all over he'll come around and make up for lost time."

"But I don't want to wait until then! We don't know what this war is going to bring! We may not even survive that long! Of course I certainly can't tell him that. He'd just pull away even more." Hermione opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but was cut off when Ginny continued with an air of confession. "And then there's Fleur. All the men in the house are practically drooling over her. I know it's not love. It's pure lust, but that doesn't make it any better. I can't help but think 'what am I compared with her?' and it just makes the rejection so much worse." Ginny's eyes looked a little misty and Hermione was taken aback. Ginny Weasley was a brave, tough warrior of a woman. She didn't cry.

"No. Don't you even think that," Hermione commanded. "Ginny, you are striking! Don't you notice how much attention the boys give you at school? And Harry sees it, too. Of that, I am positive."

"Maybe, but he has a history with Fleur. They were in the Triwizard Tournament together…"

"That doesn't mean anything, Ginny. He loves you. I know he does." Ginny met Hermione's eyes at that and smiled beautifully.

"You think so?" Hermione nodded, suddenly afraid she may have said too much. "Oh, Hermione! I love him too! I always have! I just wish he would stop being stubborn. Merlin, how I want to get that boy alone!" Hermione choked a little at that pronouncement.

"You want to what?"

"I want to show him just how much I love him, if you know what I mean." Ginny's expression turned mischievous and Hermione's eyes widened. Boy, this sure escalated quickly.

"A-are you sure, Gin? It's a really big step… and…"she was interrupted by the other girl's laughter.

"Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but you're a bit late on that one." Hermione's jaw dropped in surprise.

"Dean?" she asked after a moment's thought.

"Yeah… I have to admit, I kind of regret jumping into things with him. But I was trying so hard to get over Harry and it didn't look like we'd ever end up together." She shrugged. "Oh, well. What's done is done." Hermione was suddenly very curious. Sex had never really been on the agenda for her, even despite Victor Krum's clumsy fumblings, so it was shocking that Ginny had already experienced it.

"How was it?" she heard herself ask. Ginny laughed, raising an eyebrow at Hermione's obvious interest.

"Well, the first time was awful. I mean, I always heard that it was painful, but Hermione… you just don't know. It's horrible. I was so relieved when Dean didn't even last a minute." She laughed guiltily. "Poor thing, he tried so hard…"

Suddenly the door to the bedroom was swung open and the boys invaded their territory, jumping up onto their beds, still deep in discussion about Buckbeak.

"Did you see the way he ripped that last one open? Guts everywhere!" Amidst the chaos, Hermione and Ginny exchanged knowing glances and rolled their eyes at the silly boys in their lives.

It was four days before Professor Dumbledore returned to the house. All evening Hermione looked for an opportunity to speak with him, but he was constantly accompanied by other members of the Order discussing much more pressing issues than her little request. The talk she had had with Ginny the other night had put her in mind of their vulnerability. It was true that they were all targets in this war. In fact, it wasn't out of the range of possibility that one of them could be captured and used to bait Harry. The thought sent a tremor of terror down her spine. Even if he didn't rise to the bait, a tap into their minds would probably give Voldemort enough information about Harry to defeat him. That was why she wanted to ask the Headmaster about Occlumency. It was an idea she had had for a long time, but had finally decided could wait no longer. Though, she admitted privately, the main reason she hadn't talked to Dumbledore before now was that she was afraid of dealing with Snape. But something about the vulnerability she had seen in his tired features the other night lessened her fear just enough. Therefore, when she spotted the Headmaster heading down to the kitchen late after dinner, presumably for tea, she jumped on the opportunity.

"Professor," she began without hesitation when she found him alone at the kitchen table.

"Ah, yes, Miss Granger. I had the impression that you were looking to talk to me. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, Professor," she replied, relieved. This was going smoother than she could have hoped. It wasn't that she had any sort of unreasonable demand from him. Quite the contrary, Hermione believed that this idea would be for the best for everyone involved. "I have been wanting to ask you about something. I have been thinking and I came to realize that Ron and I are vulnerabilities. If one of us was captured, Voldemort could use us to get to Harry. I don't really know what we can do about that, because Harry would never allow anything to happen to one of us, but that isn't my main concern. You told us before that You-Know-Who…"

"Say his name, Miss Granger. Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself."

"Alright. You told us before that… Voldemort… can read minds?" the Headmaster nodded, looking very pleased.

"And you are worried that he will exploit the content of your mind and use it against Harry." It was not a question, but Hermione answered anyway.

"Yes. That's why I've been thinking that we ought to learn Occlumency to reduce the damage that would cause." She paused. The Headmaster had a funny, little smile on his face as he considered her.

"Very practical, Miss Granger. Always thinking ahead." She wasn't sure if she should respond to that comment or not, but was saved the decision when the Headmaster continued. "I will consider this and give you an answer as soon as I can." His polite smile told her that the conversation was over, but it looked like the odds were in her favor.

"Thank you, sir," she murmured with a relieved sigh. He nodded in dismissal and she turned to leave.

Severus Snape was as deeply immersed in the text before him as he was in the bottle of fire whiskey on the table beside him. Even through the haze of drunken numbness he could tell that this new book on Potions Theory held no information that would be new to him. No matter how far and wide he searched for books to challenge his understanding of the subject, he always came up short. There came a point when the discoveries of other wizards failed to explain any more than he already knew. He was not hesitant, therefore, to toss the book aside when green flames leapt from within his fireplace and the head of Albus Dumbledore appeared.

"Severus?" the old man called, "Are you busy?" Severus drained the rest of his glass and growled his response.

"No."

At that, the Headmaster stepped into the small study of Severus's home on Spinner's End. He looked around the place, as if taking in the changes made since the last time he had visited. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Nothing had changed about this place since Albus had been there the summer before. Then the man's old eyes settled on the half-empty bottle and turned hard.

"Indulging in an old habit, Severus?" His voice was stern with reprimand, but it did not faze the younger wizard.

"Would you care for a glass?" Severus offered impertinently. With a wave of his hand a second tumbler appeared next to his own, but Albus waved it away.

"Actually I only came to discuss your eagerness to ensure Harry's preparation for the upcoming war." Severus's eyes slanted in suspicion. The old fart was about to use his own words against him. He responded by pouring a measure of the whiskey into his glass and taking a sip. "I think you will be at a better advantage to teach him if you are staying at Grimmauld Place." Ah.

"No." It was a simple statement and brooked no argument. The Headmaster's answering grin held the cunning of a man who had just placed his opponent in check.

"Ah, but Severus, this summer will give you an unparalleled opportunity to instruct them without the other students present."

"Them?" Severus felt an angry thrum of foreboding.

"Yes. Miss Granger made the astute point that it might be beneficial to teach Mr. Weasley and herself Occlumency, as a cautionary measure."

"She what?!"

"Now, Severus, you of all people should support such a decision. After all, they know a great deal about you that Tom might find interesting given the opportunity to delve into their minds." Severus ground his teeth together. Albus's tone of giddy obliviousness did not fool him. If he did not consent, it would become a demand. Curse that meddling know-it-all!

Hermione pulled aside the vinyl curtain and stepped over the edge of the bathtub. A thin layer of mist began to settle across the mirror, but it was nothing compared to the clouds of steam that poured out of the bathroom whenever Ron took a shower. Hermione patted her skin dry and wrapped the towel in her hair before clearing the mirror of its condensation. Once again, she was confronted with her own reflection.

There were slight bags under her eyes from the stress and sleepless nights of late and she cringed at the sallow complexion at odds with the current season. Her gaze swept over the rest of her body and she gave a deep sigh. She was certainly no Fleur; nor a Ginny for that matter. The other girls were so beautiful, with a stunning charisma that drew the heads of wizards wherever they went. Hermione had had a glimpse of that at the Yule ball, years ago, but it was not something she was likely to ever become familiar with. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at her slender form, she pulled the towel from her hair to wrap around herself, effectively hiding her body from view. Her hands worked mechanically, turning the towel in precise folds to leave the embroidered "H" front and center without even thinking about it.

Unzipping her little bag of toiletries, Hermione pulled her toothbrush and toothpaste from their respective places and was opening the cap of her Mother's recommended brand when there was a sudden commotion outside the door. Someone was yelling. Whether it was in anger or panic she could not discern. She froze, wide eyed, concentrating on the sound to decide if intervention was necessary. When a loud smash shook the walls of the bathroom, Hermione's mind was made up. Thinking that Ron and Ginny must have been having another row, she burst out of the bathroom in her towel.

A movement to her left drew her attention as the dark form of Professor Snape spun around to face her. "Granger!" he shouted angrily. If the cold rage in his eyes was any indication, the man was furious. He swooped down upon her as he continued his yelling. "Insufferable pest!" he was saying. Her back was to the wall as he towered over her, practically spitting with fury. She could smell the potent stench of whiskey on his breath and was fairly certain that she had never been this afraid. "Do you have no consideration for anyone besides your precious Golden Trio?!" he said the words with such deep loathing that she flinched with fear.

"Thanks to your little entreaty to the Headmaster, I have been deprived of the only peace I ever have away from you dunderheaded brats!" Snape huffed angrily and his eyes suddenly darted down to the towel wrapped around her. He seemed to freeze, as if he hadn't noticed it until now, but his shocked expression was instantly replaced with a wicked sneer. "You would be the type to wear your towels with the soft side facing away from your skin." Suddenly, he swept away from her, back down the hallway in the direction he had been headed before, continuing his angry rant. "Mindless sheep! Never questioning what they're supposed to do!" He slipped into a room on the right side of the hall and there was a loud bang as if he had kicked something before he slammed the door.

Hermione hesitated only a moment for her heartbeat to slow. Her face was hot and her knees were trembling. Then, she flew back into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Oh Merlin, what the hell have I done?!


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione unwrapped the towel from around her flushed body. She had never considered that the embellished side was softer than the other. It irked her that he had seen through her characteristic need to conform to the rules. Tossing the towel aside in irritation, she reached for her undergarments.  _Merlin_ , she had been in a towel! In front of Professor Snape! Her blush returned full force as that strange fact hit her once again at full force. It was coming in waves as if her mind couldn't quite grasp the concept all at once for more than a moment.  _And he was furious!_  She was certainly not looking forward to bumping into him again. In fact, she was starting to regret her request for Occlumency classes. Hermione groaned as she reached for her pajamas.  _This was such a big mistake!_

Hermione slipped the soft, baby blue tee over her bare breasts, but hesitated before donning her favorite grey shorts. She ran a hand over the soft material of the garment, realizing for the first time that they too were softer on the outside.  _Conform to the rules or conform to Snape's teasing? Stick with the tried and true or walk on the wild side?_ A teensy shiver of excitement ran over Hermione's skin at the mere rebellion of it. Slipping the shorts over her long legs she relished in the sensation of the soft material against her skin. Funny how a new take on something can bring about an entirely new appreciation for it.

When she returned to her bedroom, Ginny was not there. Her lips quirked as she remembered the way the pretty redhead had been cheering Harry on in his losing battle against Ron, the chess champ. As she slipped between the sheets, she wondered if Ron had left them alone yet. Hermione nestled down into her pillow, the rush of breaking with the norms already faded away. Still, she admitted to herself, her shorts certainly were even more comfortable this way. Perhaps next time she'd leave off the undies as well. Hermione's eyes popped open. That would certainly be breaking with the norm.  _Walk on the wild side?_  Grinning mischievously, Hermione struggled with her clothing until she was able to remove the garment. Soft fabric brushed magnificently against soft skin.  _Oh, yes, this is deliciously wicked!_

* * *

When Severus entered the kitchen the following morning, he suppressed a groan at the sight of his old nemesis, Sirius Black, seated at the head of the table. They had had a bit of a confrontation the night before when Albus had unceremoniously dumped him on the dingy doorstep of the Black residence with naught but a suitcase of clothes and books from his own home. At least he and the mongrel pup had agreed on one thing: Severus Snape living at Order Headquarters was the worst idea the old man had had since asking the two of them to let bygones be bygones.

Luckily, the Weasley twins were also present, or the professor might have had to teach an old dog a new lesson. Molly was absent, but platters of steaming breakfast foods told him that she had been there not long ago. The twins nodded in greeting at their Potions Master, but continued an enthusiastic discussion about one of their latest experiments as he grabbed a plate from the counter and helped himself to the bounty. There was a large pot of tea alongside the dishes.  _Caffeine._  It was certainly a day for caffeine. Severus retrieved an old mug from one of the cabinets and poured a generous portion of the hot brew before sitting down to his breakfast. He ate mechanically, not because he particularly  _wanted_  any of it, but because rationally he knew that his body needed it. Today was bound to be a difficult day and he was going to need his strength.

He was starting into his eggs as a haggard-looking Remus Lupin wandered in. "Remus!" Black shouted happily. The werewolf merely groaned in acknowledgement. He was obviously still recuperating from the full moon last week. Severus was surprised to see that Lupin received the same greeting from the twins that he himself had been given. "How's my cousin treating you?" persisted Black.

"She's fine," Remus murmured as he poured himself a mug of the hot tea. He made a gesture of the teapot to Black, as if to offer him some.

"No thanks. I detest the brew," replied the mutt before continuing to pester his friend, oblivious to the man's obvious fatigue. "How're things going on that front? I noticed the two of you getting pretty cozy on the couch the other night…" Severus was getting rather annoyed and was about to interrupt the one-sided dialogue when Granger stepped into the room. His lips immediately twisted in a sneer to express the anger rising up within him. It was hard to believe that this slender chit with that uncontrollable mane of sleep-frizzed hair, rubbing the sleep from her eyes like a babe was the reason for his current stint in hell.

Granger moved automatically toward the cabinet and reached up on tiptoes to withdraw a mug. It was then that he noticed. The soft gray shorts she wore were turned inside-out. She caught his glance, coming out of her daze for the first time, and he smirked at her. Her embarrassed blush was proof of her guilt, but she lifted her chin in defiance and went to pour the tea. It was then that Severus realized that Black's monologue had ceased. He glanced over at the other man and was shocked to see the way the mongrel was staring at Granger with unconcealed lust. His first thought was that Black must indeed have been desperate to pine after the bushy-haired child.

"Hermione," Black murmured as the girl placed her mug on the table. "Would you mind fetching me a cup as well?" Severus's eyes narrowed at the man and he found himself inexplicably angry that the stupid girl complied without question. He watched her slink back to the cabinet, rising up on tiptoes once more, and this time it was obvious that the girl was not wearing anything beneath the thin layer of cotton pajamas.  _Taking it a bit far, Miss Granger?_

The girl poured the dog some of the hot brew and then asked in a voice hoarse from sleep how he took his tea. "Black," he purred, and she handed it to him before going to doctor her own mug with cream and sugar. "Come sit over here, Hermione, next to me." The little fool smiled innocently at Black, but shook her head.

"I was going to get some reading in before the boys wake up," she replied before grabbing a piece of buttered toast and slipping out the door, her bare feet padding softly against the hard floor. Severus continued with his breakfast. It was no matter to him how she wished to parade herself around the house. Here, away from Hogwarts, she was not his responsibility.

"Is Hermione seeing anyone?" Black asked the twins, who seemed to have finally come to an agreement and were finishing up their bacon. Their eyebrows rose in unison before George answered.

"No. Don't think so."

"Boys! What are you doing? Pretty thing like that flouncing about with nothing to do all summer and none of you charming lads have done anything about it?" The twins grinned impishly.

"Well, it looked like she and Ron were going to have a thing for a bit, but nothing's come of it, so I dunno," said Fred. Black sighed dramatically.

"Phew, if I were ten years younger…" Severus had had enough. It took all of his self-control not to hex the dirty bastard as he swept from the room.

* * *

"Now," began their dark professor in his most intimidating tone once they were all seated on the couch in the study. "You are here," he was saying as he paced back in forth in front of them, in his typical lecture stance, "because Miss Granger…" here he deliberately paused, ensuring that the boys were both made very aware whom to blame for this, "has decided that the three of you need Occlumency lessons." Ron turned to glare at Hermione as Harry's jaw dropped open in shocked betrayal. She shrunk into the cushions. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to tell them her reasons beforehand… but she stood by the assertion that these lessons would be beneficial to all of them.

"Now, as Occlumency is not a subject particularly well-suited to instruction as a class, I have not yet decided if these lessons will be undertaken individually or as a whole. So, for the moment, we will do both." Ron gasped in outrage. "Do not interrupt, Mr. Weasley! You have no one to blame but the erroneously-dubbed 'Brains' of your own little triumvirate." Now both boys were glaring at Hermione. She glared right back at them and then at Snape as he continued his lecture.

"Now, there are many mistaken assumptions about the nature of Occlumency. While it is true that specific thoughts and memories require eye-contact for communication, vague senses of emotions or attitudes can be sensed if the Legilimens is merely in close proximity to the person. When it comes to actually 'reading' one's mind, the Legilimens only sees what the person shows them. A skilled Legilimens knows how to make a person bring a thought or memory to the surface of his or her mind. Occlumency is all about mind control." At this point Harry and Ron were very obviously not paying attention, but Hermione was fascinated.

"If the mind is an open book, the Legilimens can only see the open page. The person whose mind is being read ultimately has the power to decide which page. If the Legilimens suggests a chapter, the person only has to suppress the urge to oblige them immediately. Because most people are unused to having to control the paths of their own thoughts, they are incapable of stopping themselves from switching immediately to that page for the Legilimens to read at his leisure. However, a skilled Occlumens can not only refrain from caving in to the impulse of reviewing a particular thought, but is also able to create false pages, if you will, to which he can turn the Legilimens' eye. Have I cleared up any of your foggy notions, or are you too busy staring into space to concentrate on my silly, little lesson?" Hermione was horrified to see that Harry and Ron had missed the entirety of their professor's explanation. Resisting the urge to smack them both over the heads, she met her professor's gaze with a look of exasperation that he surprisingly mirrored.

* * *

Severus scowled down at the dunderheads on the couch in front of him. They were wasting his time and he was not going to tolerate that. Not when this was all  _her_  fault and he could be doing so many much more important things with his time. Fine. If they couldn't appreciate the worth of the knowledge he was bestowing upon them, perhaps they'd appreciate a quick shock to their senses.

"Weasley, up! You can go first." He had chosen the ginger because he hated him the least and believed, therefore, that his would be the least annoying mind to pillage. The poor fool blanched horribly and then turned to glare at Granger. Severus couldn't keep his lips from turning up in a sneer. Oh, she was going to regret her request for Occlumency lessons. He'd make sure of that. Soon he would have her begging Albus to let him return to Spinner's End.

The tallest and stupidest member of the Golden Trio now stood before him like a deer in the proverbial headlights. "Weasley, I am going to attempt to discover the name of your current love interest. You are going to keep me from learning that secret." It was all the warning he gave the boy as his wand came up to point between two orange brows. He smirked in satisfaction.  _Like taking candy_. " _Legilimens!_ "

A torrent of emotion swirled around Severus's consciousness. The boy was practically having a panic attack. He let the suggestion of a love interest resound inside of Weasley's mind and the first image was one of Granger, which he had expected. But another image was struggling to burst forth; an image of Fleur Delacour.  _Typical_. For a moment, Severus thought that the boy had been trying to confound him with the image of his brunette friend, but then he realized that he himself had brought that image to the surface of Weasley's mind. He had allowed the suggestion that the twins had made over breakfast affect his search criteria. Withdrawing from the boy's mind, he watched in satisfaction as the redhead crumpled onto the floor from the sheer force of his departure.

"Fleur Delacour?" Snape mocked. He was gratified to see Weasley's face grow red as he shot guilty glances at the other two. "How unoriginal," he continued with contempt. Chancing a glance at the Brains of the Trio, he was surprised to see that she was not hurt by this news. He had hoped it would cause her pain, but she only rolled her eyes disdainfully. "Miss Granger, you're next." At that the girl blanched a shocking shade of white and slowly rose to her feet. He smirked at her knowingly and momentarily wondered what secret she was afraid he would reveal.

"Miss Granger, this will be a rather challenging exercise for you. For six years you have proven yourself incapable of  _not_  answering a question posed to you." He sneered. "So tell me, Miss Granger, what do you get when you mix powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?" He watched the girl's eyes light up immediately with the answer and took the chance to strike. " _Legilimens!_ "

Inside her mind, the professor could feel how desperately she was trying not to think of the answer. A steady chorus of  _BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH_ sang over the memories flashing through her mind. It was enough to make him grit his teeth in irritation, but he did not relent. Through bits of other memories, a particular vision was making a more and more frequent appearance. He subtly suggested that she show him that one and it came immediately to the front of her mind. He could see himself, looming over a class of first years. "Asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of the Living Dead."

There was an aching sense of disappointment in her mind, but he couldn't be sure if it was attached to the memory or not. Her mind immediately made the switch to something he had said only moments before giving this response: "Put your hand down, you silly girl." The sense of rejection was palpable and he latched onto it, suggesting that she show him more of that vulnerability. She eagerly complied.

Immediately, Hermione's mind dove further into that thread of information, bringing up a wealth of old memories, mostly involving himself. There was the time he had remarked of her magically enlarged front teeth that he could see no difference. Then he saw himself calling her an "insufferable know-it-all." Well, if that struck such a cord with her, he must remember to use it against her in the near future. What was most shocking about this string of memories was that they were all still very clear, as if the girl regularly revisited them. He sneered in disgust as he withdrew from her mind.

The girl made a valiant effort to stay on her feet and was obviously shocked to find tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She wiped them away, embarrassed by her own response, and refused to look at him. He wondered if she was afraid that looking at him would make her cry.  _Too tempting not to test it._  "Pathetic," he murmured scornfully. He watched her square her jaw, but she maintained her gaze in the direction of the fireplace. "Miss Granger your compulsive habit of continually demonstrating your status as the resident know-it-all may be the largest obstacle in your path to becoming an Occlumens." Her eyes popped up to his at that and she lifted her chin against his attack. "If you cannot learn  _not_  to flaunt your much-exaggerated intelligence, you will never be able to keep any information from anyone."

"Potter." He turned to the last of the Golden Trio who sat with his arms folded across his chest in defiance. The boy turned white as his friends had, but glared up at his professor rather than complying. "Though I have no hope that these classes will be any more successful than your last Occlumency lessons, they will be very different. Before, you were attempting to learn to close your mind entirely to outside influence. It is a different kind of Occlumency, much suited to our purposes at the time. Now, however, you must learn how to trick the Legilimens into believing that they have gotten the information they wanted. The much less subtle approach of closing one's mind is an invitation for the Legilimens to continue until they have discovered your secrets. Cunning and deception are the only ways to convince your opponent to probe no further. Now, stand up boy. Face me."

Potter rose to the challenge in his tone and stood to face his enemy. His fingers were twitching with the desire to draw his wand. " _Potter_ ," Severus intoned again. This was the one he hated most of the three of them; James Potter's son. "Let us start with something simple, shall we? All you have to do, Potter, is  _not_  show me how much you hate me. This exercise has often been the difference between life and death for me. It should be easy for you." His voice dripped with sarcasm and scorn. "Ready  _Potter? Legilimens!"_

He expected the boy's temper to rule his thoughts and Potter did not disappoint. Fierce anger directed at himself attacked his senses upon entering the boy's mind. Immediately, a barrage of images flashed by. These were all of the times Potter had felt the most hate for his Potions Master. His attention was drawn to the ones involving Sirius Black. The most recent showed the almost-duel between Black and himself in the dingy kitchen of this very house. Potter's hate had been laced with a bit of fear for his beloved godfather. That immediately led to the night that the mongrel pup had almost been kissed by a dementor. Severus had been elated to finally capture his nemesis, but Black had escaped inexplicably. Potter's memory of events unfolded more information, however. The use of a time-turner at the Headmaster's command. Severus felt a storm of bristling fury building within himself as he watched Hermione Granger lead  _Potter_  back in time to thwart himself and save the  _mutt._

Severus's hasty withdrawal from Potter's mind sent the boy crashing back into the couch with his friends. The hate he felt was mirrored in those bright green eyes. But his own attention was drawn to a pair of startled brown ones.  _Granger!_  So she had been the reason for his failure that night! The list of ways in which the girl had made his own life more difficult was growing at an alarming pace.  _Menace!_  As the three frightened Gryffindors stared up at his own fierce scowl, Severus Snape vowed to redouble his efforts to make Granger pay for her crimes.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione was already bored with her Mythology book and she hadn't even read it all the way through. Even though the stories were supposedly based on historical characters, it read like fiction. In fact, it seemed to her that this book was really just a book on the different Muggle Mythologies with a note here and there reminding the reader that these deities were in fact witches and wizards. Unfortunately, fiction just didn't captivate her thirst for information the way nonfiction did. And reading this book felt like a waste of time when there were so many more pressing matters to attend to. Like defeating Voldemort.

But Hermione could not bring herself to brush off the connection between this book and the text on Chaos theory which she had brought from her parents' house. So far, the contents of the Mythology book had not seemed relevant at all to Chaos theory, except that Chaos was one of the first deities, along with Love. But Hermione decided she would at least finish reading it once before returning it to the Black library.

Inevitably, Hermione's mind began to wander. Athena in Greek Mythology was named Minerva in the Roman. How fitting that Professor McGonagall would be named for the goddess of war and wisdom. Well, if Professor McGonagall was Athena, who were her other professors? Professor Sprout would definitely be Demeter, the Earth goddess of the harvest. Professor Dumbledore would have to be Zeus, naturally. Flitwick was a bit more difficult to place, but Professor Snape would definitely be Hades.

Struck with inspiration, Hermione turned to the section on Hades. In Greek Mythology, the three brothers—Zeus, Poseidon and Hades—drew lots to determine who would rule over which part of the Earth. Zeus was given the heavens, Poseidon the sea, and Hades was sent to rule the Underworld. That seemed horribly unfair, and strikingly appropriate for Snape's position as a spy. After all, someone had to rule over the Underworld, and Hades was the sacrifice to the cause.

Except that Hades was never pictured as a victim. He was always depicted as a snarling bastard, just like Snape. Even the etymology of the name fit the surly Potions Master:  _unseen._  The book described him as passive, not evil, and as maintaining balance within the world. And who could possibly maintain that balance better than Severus Snape?

At that moment, Ginny slipped into the room. "Mum sent me to let everyone know that supper's ready," the youngest Weasley said before slipping back through the door to find the boys. Mrs. Weasley had taken to sending the girl up rather than shouting, as the latter tended to wake a certain screaming portrait. Hermione happily set her book aside and slipped out of bed to follow her friend down to dinner.

Hermione was one of the few to notice that Severus Snape did not join them at dinner. She idly wondered if he was avoiding contact with the rest of them, or if he had been summoned back to the Underworld.

* * *

Miles away from the joyful atmosphere of Grimmauld Place, Severus looked out on a much darker gathering. Lucius's parties were getting more and more elaborate as he gained more and more favor with the dark lord. This time, he had taken the trouble to have several muggle women brought in as entertainment. In years past, the Death Eaters had enjoyed abducting innocents to bring to their celebrations. More recently, however, Lucius had decided that hiring professionals was much more gratifying, as there were fewer pitiful tears to ruin the occasion. The strippers would still scream when the tables inevitably turned against them and the wizards took control, but screaming was part of the allure.

Severus had learned to hide his disgust behind a façade of snobbishness, and after so many revels it was practically routine. However, the image of Peter Pettigrew drooling into the bleached blonde hair of a young woman as he thrust her heavily cosmetically altered Stunned body into the couch was enough to make even Severus cringe and turn away.

He caught the eye of his Master, who beckoned his faithful servant to his side. Severus obeyed immediately, trying to hide his concern at the dark lord's request. "Severusss," Lord Voldemort hissed as the professor approached, "why do you not partake of the cccelebration?" Severus bowed his head slightly in humility.

"My Lord, there are those who live for pleasure and there are those who live for purpose." The snake-man laughed at his response.

"The two are not mutually exclusive. Have you no interest in the bounty?" Severus was almost sure that it was pure curiosity and not suspicion that drove the dark lord's questions, but only fools would ever claim to know Lord Voldemort's intentions.

"It is too easy," he found himself saying. It was often a challenge to find a suitable excuse for his behavior, but he had grown accustomed to thinking on the spot. "I enjoy a good challenge. One cannot satiate what is not yet aroused."

"Ah, you prefer to struggle for dominance. You enjoy the chase." Severus inclined his head in agreement.

"Unlike many of my brothers, I am quite accustomed to having the upper hand. Therefore, it holds no excitement for me when I am given the opportunity to force an already submitting woman to submit. I find it boring." The dark lord laughed and Severus suppressed a shiver that itched at his spine.

"Perhaps one day we will find a woman who will put up a fight for you."

* * *

Severus returned to Grimmauld Place a little after midnight. He usually came up with an excuse to leave before the real fun began. It already made him nauseous to look into the eyes of the girls who were brought to Malfoy Manor, knowing that they would not be leaving. He could not stay to watch them die.  _Powerless,_  he thought,  _I am completely powerless._

As was the norm on nights such as this, Severus slept very little, his dreams twisted with the naked bodies of the women he knew would now be dead. As was customary, he rose before dawn, finally accepting that he would get no more rest, and headed down to the basement kitchen for a cup of tea. Rest was not worth the nightmares.

He was the first to the kitchen and set about brewing a pot of tea. As he sat there, in the dark and silence, he couldn't stop the images from leaping into his mind.  _Pettigrew._  That disgusting rat should have been butchered years ago. He pressed his thumbs into the corners of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose to sooth an impending headache.

It was all because of Pettigrew, really. Pettigrew had betrayed Lily and James. Pettigrew had nurtured the dark lord back to health. Without Pettigrew, lord Voldemort may never have returned to power. And yet, on that one night so many years ago, when Pettigrew escaped to rejoin his Master, Hermione Granger had broken the law and used a time-turner to save Sirius Black.  _But she did not kill the rat!_  It was one thing that she had trusted Sirius enough after a two minute explanation to believe him worth the effort to save, when all of the literature suggested that he was a madman hell-bent on murdering Potter. She had even trusted Remus Lupin, when she knew that he was a werewolf. And a part of him, very deep down and admittedly petty, resented that she only trusted himself because Albus said so. But what really irked him was that she had  _gone back in time_  to save that useless mongrel, but had not managed to destroy the one mangy vermin who would be integral to the dark lord's rebirth and subsequent rise to power.

It was all her fault. And while she slept, somewhere in this very house, peacefully unaware of the horrors of the world, a dozen young women were dead tonight. At Pettigrew's hand.  _At her hand._  And his own personal hell was a reflection of one silly, little girl's scrambled priorities.

Before Severus knew it, the house was awakening and the residents of Grimmauld Place were slowly filtering into his sanctuary. The lights were on and the buzz of cooking and chattering drowned out his heavy thoughts. But he would not join in the cheery conversation. He knew better than them. The world was not a cheery place and it was no use pretending that it was.

When Sirius Black slunk into the room, Severus found his eyes rooted to the happy man. Did he know the cost of his own freedom? Severus would not have hesitated to sacrifice this man to kill his old pal, Pettigrew. To him, it was a no-brainer. Yet, Black had no appreciation for the life he continued to have, but rather spent his days whining pathetically. At the moment he was standing with his back to the door, animatedly telling Molly how wonderful it was to have someone cooking for him again.

Suddenly, Granger was in the doorway, once again rubbing sleep from her eyes. He noticed that her shorts were not turned inside-out this time, but she was still without undergarments. In fact, he was alarmed to notice just how obvious that was through her thin, white t-shirt. She lifted a hand to Black's arm, as if to excuse herself past him, and he swung around to face her, immediately taking in her appearance. It was clear from the way his eyes lingered on her pert breasts that he had noticed it too.

"Hermione!" the mutt shouted, causing his head to throb horribly. Black flung his arms wide and pulled the girl tight into his embrace, lingering just a little bit too long. "Good morning! How did you sleep last night?" Severus was irritated to note that Granger only looked mildly surprised by the vehemence of this greeting. In fact, she looked rather pleased.

"I slept well," she murmured sleepily. "How about you?" Severus watched her stifle a yawn and glance obviously at the stove as Black responded. Well, at least one thing was clear: the attraction was not mutual. As the girl went about preparing a plate, Bill and Fleur entered the small kitchen and Severus decided that it was definitely too crowded. So he left.

* * *

Hermione was draped across the couch in the study, reading while she waited for their next Occlumency lesson to begin. She had finally decided that she could just hold onto the Mythology book and finish it bit by bit while she started on something more interesting. This time, she decided to forsake the more chaotic method of choosing a book randomly from the shelf for the more tried and true tactic of choosing a text on a subject that actually interested her. This one was all about spell writing. She knew that Harry's Potions book—once belonging to The Half-Blood Prince, whoever that was—contained a series of invented spells in the margins, but she had never understood the theory behind creating a new spell. There were so many questions flitting through her mind.  _I'll have to ask Professor Flitwick when we return._

Suddenly, the door was swung open and in swept Professor Snape. The dramatic effect was a bit dulled by the fact that neither of the boys had arrived yet and she was currently stretched out across a couch. "Hello, Professor," she said distractedly, her eyes not leaving the words on the page for more than a polite acknowledgement of her teacher. As she continued to read, she suddenly became aware of a prickling at the back of her neck, and realized that he was scowling down at her. Blushing, she slipped a bookmark between the pages and set the book aside, twisting to sit attentively and face the professor.

For a moment, neither did or said a thing. But they both knew that this lesson could not begin until the boys showed up. Hermione adjusted her position nervously and Snape stalked over to the window, staring out at the dull evening beyond. From this vantage point, she could stare at his back and he would have no way of knowing.

He could certainly play the part of Hades. Dark robes billowing around him, even indoors. In contrast to his sickly pale skin, it was a pretty sinister effect. Hermione's lip quirked up as she realized that being locked away in the dungeons with the other Slytherins was very similar to being locked away in the Underworld with the demons, right down to the fact that there was no sunlight either place. And just as Hades was the king of the demons, Severus Snape was the Head of Slytherin.

The boys finally slipped through the door and headed toward Hermione, obviously trying to be sneaky. But Hermione knew that the Order spy was not fooled so easily. Studying him, she noticed a tension in his shoulders when they entered the room, as if he had suddenly become even more perfectly still than he had been moments before. Then, with a sweep of his long arms, he closed the heavy drapes in front of the window. The effect was dramatic as it darkened the room ten shades in the space of an instant. Harry and Ron were obviously put on edge, and Hermione could feel her own heart pounding in her chest.

"Last lesson, I gave you each directions for meditations and practices that you could work on alone," the dark professor began. His lips turned up in a sneer that would curdle a Hufflepuff's blood. "Raise your hand if you have complied with this request." Hermione's hand immediately shot in the air. Harry and Ron both hesitated, but raised theirs as well. "Ah, Miss Granger, your favorite reflex. Did you learn nothing last lesson?" Hermione blushed and let her hand slowly drop down to her lap. "As for the two of you, it is inadvisable to lie to a man who is about to read your thoughts." The boys blanched simultaneously and lowered their hands as well.

Properly chastised, the three wide-eyed Gryffindors sat like statues of ice, forced to watch and wait as the inferno before them stepped closer and raised his wand.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus's confinement at Grimmauld Place was really beginning to rub him raw. He itched to be back in the safe solitude of his own home.  _Although,_  he mused as he stirred the bubbling cauldron before him,  _it wasn't exactly difficult to find solitude in this dump either._ He was currently brewing Lupin's next batch of Wolfsbane in a makeshift lab he'd set up in one of the vacant bedrooms. It was on the first landing in the stairway and therefore an ideal hideaway when he wasn't in his own room or the library. From here, he could usually hear what was going on in the house. Of course, if he wanted silence, a simple  _Muffliato_  was all he needed.

For the past few days, Severus had spent a majority of his time flitting between this lab and the library. The downside of going to the library was that  _Granger_  was usually there, but he was beginning to run out of potions that needed brewing. Usually, Severus spent the summer months experimenting with new potions and writing out ideas based on Potions Theory. Unfortunately, however, being locked up in this vile prison left him feeling a bit… uninspired.

Luckily the Wolfsbane required a lot of time over the course of many days, though he was almost done with today's brewing. Moving the cauldron to a corner where it would be safe to simmer for a couple of days, Severus glanced up at the clock. He had decided that the Occlumency lessons would be more effective if done individually, and today was Granger's turn. Weasley had been a complete disaster and he did not have high hopes for the girl, but he did want to go ahead and get it over with.

Unfortunately, their lesson was not scheduled for another quarter of an hour. Severus sat down on the edge of the bed that was still occupying the room. He had not bothered to move it yet, as he did not need more space. What was he supposed to do for another fifteen minutes?  _Oh, fuck it._  It wasn't like Granger had a tight schedule at the moment. Was he in charge or not? Launching to his feet with renewed vigor—sadistic-bastard plans generally had that effect on him—he swept from the room and headed in the direction of the library.

When Severus threw open the door to the library moments later, his dramatic entrance was lost on the girl who was deeply immersed in a thick, old tome. Once again, she was draped across a couch, practically emanating concentration as she stared into the depths of the written word. For a moment, Severus imagined that she was a sculpture.  _And how much more pleasant would she be if she were?_

"Granger!" he barked. She reacted by jerking violently, dropping her book to the floor, and leaping up to ascertain that the book was not damaged, before even glancing his way. When she did, she was almost glaring with indignation. He knew her concern was for the book. "I hate to interrupt your leisure time, but I believe you requested Occlumency lessons. Unless of course you've changed your mind and would prefer to focus your attentions on  _literature_." He stressed the last word, implying that she was reading a novel when he knew very well that Hermione Granger rarely wasted her time on works of fiction. He saw the affronted look in her eyes and knew that she wanted to respond, but she recognized the trap and did not rise to his bait. He would have been a bit impressed with her self-control if she wasn't depriving him of satisfaction he got from baiting Gryffindors.

"I'm ready whenever you are, Professor," she said sweetly, but the look in her eyes spoke of her true feelings. He stepped farther into the room, allowing his robes to sweep around him intimidatingly. She held her ground.  _Foolish Gryffindors._

"Fine. Have you been practicing your meditations?"

"Yes, sir." Her lips twisted as if there was something else she wanted to say, so he raised an eyebrow and waited. "Sir? I was wondering if you had any books on the subject. I usually learn better from…"

"No," he interrupted. "This is something better learned firsthand. You can study the theory all you want, but it will only make your attempts more difficult. You will find yourself thinking about the theory, rather than clearing your mind as you should be.  _You_ , Miss Granger, are the reason I am here in this pitiful dump. If you no longer desire my instruction, I suggest you advise the Headmaster…"

"No!" she blurted back. "That's not it! Of course I want your instruction! I just thought that maybe if I were to read about it…"

"I have already told you, Miss Granger, that you must learn this particular skill firsthand. You may read what you will when we are done with these lessons. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," the girl finally conceded, bowing her head.

"Good, now come here." Granger set her book aside and stood to face her professor.

"Now, Miss Granger, try  _not_  to let me find out what book you were reading." He sneered as he watched her eyes grow wide, knowing that she would be eager to tell him all about it. It was all the warning he gave her before raising his wand. " _Legilimens!_ "

Her mind was obviously set in the defensive. He could feel her intentions to pull away from his contact. For a moment he was reminded of an analogy that Albus had once used comparing Legilimency to rape. He immediately brushed that thought away. After all, she had  _asked_  for this.

Through the rapid blur of images that she was using to confuse her attacker, he tried to latch onto the image of a book the kept repeating. Pulling her attention to the book, she brought it easily to the front of her mind, struggling to keep it hidden and failing miserably. Finally, he could make out the title:  _Magical Mythologies: Witches and Wizards that Muggles Worshipped Willingly_. That struck him as odd. Why the hell would Granger be reading a book that glorified the pureblood ideology that muggles should worship them?

Probing for more information on the book, Severus was bombarded by a kaleidoscope of images depicting the different gods and goddesses. He felt a tiny tingle of excitement somewhere in her mind, but disregarded it as the typical enthusiasm that Granger had for books. Her excitement was quickly suppressed and he realized that she was trying to hide it from him. There must have been something about this book that she didn't want him to know. Sending that suggestion into her mind, he was gratified and then disgusted by the image she had created of himself as Hades, the god of the Underworld.

Pure panic filtered into her mind and he knew he had found what she was hiding from him. He lingered in her mind just long enough to see her interpretations of Albus and Minerva as Zeus and Athena before withdrawing from her. The girl stumbled backwards and landed hard on the floor against the couch and he fixed a terrible scowl onto his face.

" _Hades,_  Granger?" he seethed. " _I_ am  _Hades?_ " His anger was rising alarmingly with the implications. Didn't the dark lord fit the title a bit better? And yet, this little brat had decided that  _he_ , himself, was the parallel to the King of the Underworld. But then he noticed that she was grinning widely. Well, that was very odd, indeed. "And what are you so bloody happy about?!"

Granger reached behind her to grab hold of the book.  _This had better be good._  She held it out for his inspection and he reluctantly complied. Looking down at the cover in frustration it took a minute to process the fact that this was not the book he had seen in her mind. This one was titled  _Spell Writing for Amateurs_ , but the subject didn't even penetrate his consciousness. She had Occluded him. Somehow, some way, she had managed to trick him. A dozen questions came to the tip of his tongue, but he knew it would give her immense satisfaction if he voiced any one of them, so he raised an eyebrow instead, inviting her to give in to the impulse to tell him how she'd done it.

"I really thought you were going to find me out! The other book is one I've been looking over, too. When I showed it to you, I started thinking about how I had successfully tricked you, and that almost ruined the whole thing! And I didn't mean anything by the Hades bit. I didn't really mean for you to see that part…"

"Ah, but you must learn to protect  _all_  thoughts that you do not want to share, not just the ones specifically asked for. If the dark lord were to search your mind for information about  _Potter_ , but came across information about the Order instead, it would still be a failure." There. That deflated her.

"Yes, sir," she said, sounding properly reproached. Of course, she couldn't quite let it go. "But it was a step in the right direction," she continued hopefully, smiling up at him as if waiting for his agreement. He did not give it. He  _would_  not.

"On your feet, Granger. You are a long way from any true success. Let's try again." He watched the girl slowly rise to her feet and mentally sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Hermione was sitting up in her bed reading a bit of the Mythology book when her friends suddenly burst into the room. Of the three pairs—Hermione and Ginny, Harry and Ron, Fred and George—the girls had been given the largest room. Therefore, any time the lot of them weren't hanging out in the kitchen, they tended to meet up right here.

There was a suppressed cheerfulness about the group, as if they were keeping some exciting secret, and Hermione was immediately put on her guard. "Come on, Fred! I am too old enough!" Ginny was saying. "You two were sneaking Ogden's before I even got to Hogwarts! And besides, if Ron can have some, I should too. I'm much more mature than he is." One of the twins ruffled Ginny's hair affectionately and she swatted back at him.

"Alright, alright, we'll let you have some. But only if you promise for the rest of the week to refer to us as 'Oh Great One, Master of the Universe, Ruler Eternal, Player of all the Fine Ladies… OUCH!" Ginny slammed a pillow into her brother's head.

"Alright, alright, we submit to the greater threat of your red-headed temper," said Fred.

"It's true," agreed George, "Hell hath no fury…"

"Oh just shut up and crack it open!" Ron interrupted. Hermione finally set her book aside.

"What have you two been up to?" she chided in good humor. They grinned proudly back at her.

"We just took an eensy weensy trip down to Diagon Alley," admitted George.

"Brought back an eensy weensy souvenir," continued Fred. George laughed mischievously.

"Or three," he grinned as they pulled three large bottles of Fire Whiskey from who-knows-where. The rest of the group crowded around eagerly. Ron was practically sitting on Hermione's foot, blocking her view of George at the end of her bed, while Ginny, Fred and Harry were all sitting on Ginny's bed. The twins proceeded to produce six shot glasses from their pockets, handing them out as they went. When they offered one to Hermione, she hesitated.

It was funny, in a way. She had just been reading about Dionysis, the Greek god of wine, theatre, ecstasy and ritual madness. Therefore, she was drawn to this opportunity to partake of something a little more chaotic, the same way she had been drawn to the idea of drawing random books from the shelf. It was as if she was following some sort of strange treasure trail, hoping that there was some kind of answer at the end of the rainbow.

And yet, she had always considered alcohol such a crude substance. It was for the ignorant and the lazy, those without purpose. Of course, Severus Snape was none of those things and she had definitely smelled whiskey on his breath that night in the hall, when he had accosted her in her towel.

It was with this in mind that Hermione accepted the proffered shot glass, to a chorus of cheers. She watched in fascination as Fred poured out a shot for each of them. At home, she had been allowed a glass of wine with dinner for special occasions, but never anything like this. Looking around at the others, she knew she was not alone in this nervous excitement. They were breaking the rules, and she found it exhilarating.  _Like wearing your shorts inside-out._ Raising the first toast to the Weasley Twins for providing the golden whiskey, they all downed their first shots.

The room was suddenly full of coughing as the younger ones felt the first burn of Ogden's Old. And yet, remarkably, Hermione was not likewise affected. In fact, she rather enjoyed the taste of the amber liquid on her tongue, and the powerful feeling of the burn in her throat. It made her feel strong in a much more primal way than her usual textbook knowledge. Sshe found it rather gratifying.

A few shots in, Hermione began to feel the effects of the alcohol. It hit a bit harder than she had expected, as it had not been immediate, but she liked the peaceful sensation of blurry happiness that enveloped her. Also, the warmth of the magic in the liquor and the company around her made her feel cozy and secure in a way that she had not felt in far too long. By the time their toasts had gone from "To Friendship and Family!" to "Kreacher's Toes!" amidst gales of laughter, Hermione had had enough.

The small group of friends were leaning all over each other, singing happy tunes, reminiscing about their innocent youths, and teasing each other mercilessly, and Hermione was filled with such love for all of them. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that Love and Chaos had been two of the first Greek deities. At the moment, she could understand why. That Dionysis guy really knew what he was doing.

Eventually, the mood seemed to dwindle to cozy cheerfulness and Hermione realized that Harry and Ginny were missing. It penetrated her consciousness that she really ought to have noticed them leaving, but everything was a bit blurry right now. A sudden pang of loneliness hit her, even in the midst of friends. Ginny and Harry finally had each other, but she had no one. She withdrew into herself as she watched one of the twins beating the other one with a pillow on Ginny's bed. The fight grew to chase and suddenly the twins were gone.

Through the haze of sudden disappointed loneliness, Hermione felt a warm hand upon her own and looked over at Ron. They met each other's eyes and she knew that he felt the same warm blurriness that she did. Then, suddenly, his lips were on hers and she welcomed it. It felt nice to have someone  _there_. Something felt so  _right_ about kissing Ron. They had known each other through all of the hard years. They would always be together. And a part of her reveled in the idea that for a moment she was not alone. He pressed hard against her mouth and they both fell back against the soft mattress. Then, he was practically on top of her, pressing his face eagerly against her own.

And it was not the comfort that it had been.

And suddenly it was a mistake.

And his hands were going places they never should have gone.

She pushed him off of her and was suddenly running. It wasn't fear, but rather embarrassment that drove her to abandon him there. Alcohol was a very scary thing if it could make her want something that she hadn't wanted before—or, at least, not for a long time. The house was dark and everything seemed to move at a different pace from her vision. She flew down the stairs, around the twisting staircase, and suddenly felt air. Almost before she could even register that she was falling, she landed hard against the solid strength of a man's chest. He caught her with a deep  _oomph_  and a tight grip, crushing her to him, lest she continue her fall down the next flight.  _Snape!_

Panic shot through her and she struggled to find a footing, her feet tangling in rivers of fabric, her body sliding down his own, despite the tight grip he had on her. "Granger! What the hell are you doing?" his baritone commanded. He was wearing white. A white shirt with just as many buttons as his usual black coat. Ah, and that was the fabric at her feet. He must have had it draped over his arm. Hermione suddenly became aware of just how thin a layer of fabric separated her from her professor. Her small, unprotected breasts were squashed against his skinny torso, and sliding down.

He groaned, apparently in irritation, gripping her waist and forcing her backwards. She panicked and wrapped her arms around his neck as he maneuvered her to sit on the stairs behind her. Feeling solid ground, she hastily released her hold on the dark professor. "S-sorry, sssir," she stammered. Through the darkness she could barely make out the form of the silent man as he stood before her on the landing.

"You're drunk." It was not a question and Hermione knew that she couldn't lie to him. Instead, she merely hung her head, closing her eyes against the dizzying way that the floor seemed to move beneath her feet. "Idiot girl! You could have broken your neck!" She only nodded, not willing to trust her voice. Then, her professor's tone turned darker. "You are running from someone." Again, not a question. Her noncommittal shrug was answered with a hand under her chin, forcing her face back up to his inquiring gaze. " _Do not lie to me._  Are you running from Black?" Apparently her immediate confusion was enough to answer his question. "I should have known it would just be teenage dramatics. Go back to bed, girl, before you kill yourself." She nodded in agreement and tried to stand, reaching out blindly to grip her professor's shirt as an aid. At this moment, she didn't care how much of a fool she looked like as long as she could make the dizziness go away. She slowly made her way back up to her room, practically leaning her whole body against the bannister.

She never looked back to see if her professor was watching.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione had always heard that alcohol put people to sleep. It was a depressant, after all. In her limited experience, a glass of wine on a full stomach certainly made her sleepy. But tonight, she did not sleep well. Instead, she tossed and turned with twisting, incoherent dreams that left her feeling unrested. It was just after dawn when she finally gave up on peaceful slumber and went to satisfy the other cravings of her body.

Heading down the stairs, she could still feel the dizzying effects of the fire whiskey, but it was nothing like it had been the night before. She had been so foolish! It really was lucky that Professor Snape had been there to catch her when she fell. Hermione cringed at the memory of her encounter with the dark professor. She had well and truly made an arse out of herself.

Slowly, Hermione made her way to the kitchen. Some strong tea and buttered toast was exactly what she needed right now. Her stomach twisted sickeningly in agreement. She wasn't exactly surprised to see her professor sitting at the kitchen table in the dark. At this point, she didn't really care, either. All that mattered was that she got some food into her. Not even bothering to turn on the light, for fear that it would worsen her growing headache, Hermione set about toasting some bread. There was a pot of tea already made and Hermione turned to her professor for permission to partake. He merely inclined his head with a mocking expression.

"First hangover, Granger?" he drawled silkily. In her sleep-deprived and alcohol-enhanced delirium she registered the fact that her professor had a lovely, deep voice. Brushing away the thought, she turned to glare at him, which seemed to bring him some measure of amusement. "You will learn one day, Miss Granger, that there are consequences for every action. Pray that that lesson does not come too quickly for you." Hermione hesitated long enough to realize that his seemingly scornful words were actually gentle and well-meaning. It was almost as if he were being easy on her in her pitiful state.

"I know," she murmured, appalled at the roughness of her voice. She sat down opposite her professor as she waited on the toast and sipped her tea black, as befitted her mood. Whenever she looked up at him, he was carefully avoiding looking at her. "I'm sorry about last night, Professor. I didn't realize how… affected I was." He caught her eyes and she almost dropped her gaze, but instead fought to maintain the contact. Then, his lips turned up in a sneer and he was his bastard self again.

"Yes, well, it wasn't the first time I've saved one of you brats from killing yourself, and I'm sure it won't be the last." Hermione's brow wrinkled and she tried to think of an appropriate retort, but came up short. She was saved the effort, however, when the toaster  _ding_ -ed and she dragged herself out of the chair to prepare her breakfast.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up against a masculine frame. For one insane moment she thought it was Professor Snape, and was alarmed at the way her body reacted to that.

"Morning, Hermione!" Sirius said cheerfully, playing off the contact as a joke. But something about the way he had pulled her up against himself felt wrong, like Ron the night before. She cringed again, remembering that she would have to have a talk with her red-headed best friend.

"Morning," Hermione murmured as she turned to face Harry's godfather. She had been happily surprised when he had begun to greet her so enthusiastically during her stay here. Before, Sirius had only ever been particularly close with Harry. But he was so important to her friend that it warmed her heart to see that Sirius wanted to extend that friendship to her, as well.

But this was not friendship. This made her uncomfortable. She thought back to the night before, when Snape had implied that she was running from Sirius. As if he suspected that Sirius would take advantage of her in her weakened state. It was an alarming concept.  _Why me?_

Hermione glanced over at her Potions Professor. He was studying her with unreadable eyes. When she met his gaze, he raised an eyebrow, as if to say "I told you so." She only went to join him as Sirius went about the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee and cracking some eggs into a pan. The scent suddenly began to waft towards her, and Hermione almost gagged on her toast. She caught Snape's eye as he sneered knowingly and began to rise.

Sudden panic shot through Hermione as she realized that he was about to leave her alone with Sirius. Her eyes flew wide and she threw an arm across the table, as if to hold him there. His lips twisted in a sneer of scornful malice as he stepped over to the tea kettle, refilled his mug, and returned to his seat. She turned her face from his, knowing that he was mocking her again. But as much as he was playing it off as if he had not been about to leave, she believed otherwise. He was staying because she asked him to.

* * *

Severus waited until Molly Weasley arrived to leave the little kitchen. The truth was, he hadn't slept much, and his judgment was slipping. Granger may have been his student, but he was only a man after all, and he couldn't help certain… urges. Last night, as the girl had struggled against him, he had been treated to a feel of her entire body as she slid down his own. Not that he had ever  _wanted_  to touch her. Had he not scorned Black for his interest only days ago?

And yet, here he sat, completely incapable of wiping away the memory of her soft breasts against his chest.

As much as he tried to keep himself from looking over at her, it was unavoidable. The chit was sitting directly across from him, for Merlin's sake! And as she hunched over her meager breakfast of buttered toast and black tea, her pert nipples pressed against the soft fabric of her nightshirt. Seeing them within his reach and knowing exactly what those little breasts felt like made him want to reach out and stroke his knuckles across them; to pinch her little nipples. But then… it was Granger. And that really sucked the joy out of it. Perhaps he was getting as desperate for action as Black.  _Pathetic._

Well, there was nothing to do about it at the moment, besides slink back to his bedroom for a little relief. And try not to think about the soft, little bushy-haired chit and the way her body would feel beneath his.

* * *

It was later in the day when Hermione finally bumped into Ron. From his guilty expression, she had a good idea that he had been avoiding her, too. She smiled compassionately at him and beckoned him into her room for a chat. When they were safely out of earshot of other extremely-bored-and-desperate-for-gossip Grimmauld Place residents, Hermione sat him down and was about to speak when he cut her off.

"I'm really sorry about last night, 'Mione. I don't know what got into me. It was just all the warm feelings and I was so happy and a little tingly, you know? It seemed like a good idea, at the time."

"I know what you mean," she admitted with a sad smile. "I thought it was, too. But then, I had a moment of clarity and I knew it was just the alcohol that was making us behave that way." Ron nodded in agreement.

"Yeah… but… I mean… it wasn't…  _bad._ " He grinned at her and she froze. "I mean, we're in a war…"

"No." She would not let him go any farther with that though. "We don't need any complications, Ron. And besides, it would be weird. You're like my brother." Ron looked a little rejected by this, but she held her ground. She was more than just a warm body and she would not settle for someone who only wanted her to be that much.

"You're right, Hermione," was all he said, before making some excuse about a chess match and slinking out the door.

* * *

It was still a couple of weeks before start of term, but Mrs. Weasley had decided that it would be better to visit Diagon Alley for their school supplies sooner rather than later, to avoid the chaos of the crowds. She spent three days going over safety procedures with the children, beforehand. After all, the world was no longer safe for them.

They were to only stop for the necessities, with absolutely no dawdling and no leaving the group. There was safety in numbers, to be sure, and the Matriarch of their little clan was not taking any chances. Hermione certainly felt the stress of the risks they were taking, but Mrs. Weasley was being a bit extreme. She wouldn't even allow the boys a quick detour past the Quidditch Supply store for their annual gawks at whatever the broom of the year was.

And yet, as they flitted methodically through Flourish and Blotts, Hermione couldn't help herself. She had really been wanting another book on spell invention and the stacks of the bookstore seemed a safe enough place for a quick and risky step off the path, if you will. Her heart raced as she scanned the titles of the appropriate section. All the while, she counted down the seconds until Mrs. Weasley was likely to realize that she had snuck off. There, in bright gold letters, were the words  _The Theory of Incantation_   _8_ _th_ _Edition._ Not only did that sound like exactly the kind of book she needed, but from this angle with the letters turned along the spine of the book, the "8" formed another golden symbol of infinity.

But her hand never reached the spine of the book and the little golden "8" was the last thing she saw before her world went black.

* * *

Severus was about ready for this bloody staff meeting to be over. It was the same every year, as if Albus went through withdrawals during the summer months and had to get his fix weeks before the little droolbags returned. At first he had actually been looking forward to this escape from the house where Sirius Black spent his youth. But what could he have been thinking? Staff meetings were always a terribly dull affair, but even more so when there  _weren't even any actual problems yet_. In fact, this first planning meeting had not changed in sixteen years.

The very instant that the meeting was adjourned, Severus was out the door and headed towards his private quarters. He planned to swipe a number of books and more potions ingredients before heading back to that hell-hole. After collecting those items, Severus settled into his own favorite reading chair, sighing deeply as he leaned back into the worn upholstery. It was rather liberating to be in his own rooms again, even if he knew that it was only temporary. Tonight was Granger's turn with Occlumency lessons, so he would have to leave to deal with that little nuisance. For the moment, however, he could just relax.

Back in the comfortable familiarity of his own study, the wheels of Severus's mind began to turn with inspiration. If different people were calmed by different things, perhaps a personalized calming draught would be more effective. If there was a way to incorporate some bit of that person, such as a hair, just as with the Polyjuice Potion…  _Of course!_  The lacewing flies would bind the properties of the hair to the potion. But how to counteract the effects of the lacewing flies when combined with the other ingredients of the calming draught? There could be substitutes for some of the more volatile ingredients…

Severus jumped up from his chair, sweeping through his office door and into his supply closet to pick out some more ingredients to take with him back to Grimmauld Place. He would finally have some experimenting to do, and just in time for term to start back.  _Brilliant_.

Ah, but he was out of hellebore syrup. Pomona definitely had hellebore growing in one of the greenhouses, and fresh hellebore syrup was ideal for calming potions. Without hesitating, Severus swept from his office and headed in the direction of the Entrance Hall.

He was just passing the Great Hall when Sybil Trelawney suddenly accosted him. His first reaction was to brush her off and quicken his pace. But he knew that look. Her eyes had grown wide, as if they were looking at something much larger and darker than himself. They were clouded with a strange fog that made her appear blind. And she had a death grip on his arm, which could only mean one thing. She was having a vision.

Severus calmed the immediate panic that shot through him at this realization. He did not want to know what she had to say. He had had enough experience with her prophecies to know that they rang true and were never good. In fact, he himself had witnessed the worst one of all; the one that led to Lily's death.  _Because of me._

He yanked away from her anxiously, but she was practically attached. And then, to his horror, she began to speak.

"The dark lord now holds the key to his own demise. The one who has been taken will be released, but free no more. He who holds her chains shall have the key. Unlock Victory and she shall be free." Suddenly, her hand dropped from his arm and her eyes cleared. "Forgive me," she said, looking up at him in confusion from behind those gigantic glasses, "I seem to have lost my train of thought." At that she trailed away, humming peacefully. But Severus was anything but peaceful. His body was frozen in shock and his heart was beating frantically as he replayed her words in his mind. Then, he was running in the direction of the Headmaster's office, praying that the old man would be there.

"Albus!" he called as he flung open the large wooden door. The Headmaster merely lifted an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Yes, Severus?" The latter hurried to his superior's side, panting from the run and from the worry.

"Sybil has had another vision," he choked out. "You have to see it, Albus." Meeting the other wizard's gaze, he opened his mind and Albus did not hesitate.

The words played over and over again before the older wizard withdrew. "Merlin forbid," he said simply, but years of experience told Severus that the Headmaster was in a world of tormenting emotions behind his calm façade. Suddenly, those sharp, blue eyes met his with an expression of sickening fear. "The children are in Diagon Alley today."

It was as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his gut. His worst fears were realized. One of his students had been captured and he would be called soon. Would he have to torture them? Just then, the wispy shape of a weasel burst through the outer wall and Arthur Weasley's voice filled the chamber. "Hermione is missing! Can't find her anywhere! Don't know what to do! Need assistance! Please send all available backup!"

The weasel evaporated and for a moment there was complete stillness. Frozen in time, they were just two men in a room of a tower in a castle. Then the tension in the air seemed to climax and slammed them both into action. "Fuck!" was all Severus could say to voice the sensation of powerlessness that was crashing down on him. He began to pace. "We have to get her out of there, Albus. He will use her as bait. And Potter will undoubtedly play the  _perfect hero_  and come running to her rescue, willing to sacrifice himself."

"Now, now, Severus. Harry is well aware of the importance of his continued safety. He will not do anything so rash. He will trust the adults around him to find a solution." Severus snorted disbelievingly. "And I will have Molly keep an eye on him." Well, that was marginally better.

"Alright, that takes care of  _Potter_. What do we do about  _Granger?"_

"I'm thinking, Severus. We will find a way to save Miss Granger. Tom will not kill her. She is too valuable." Severus swooped down on him at that.

"No, but he will not hesitate to torture her into madness! He will have  _me_  torture her into madness! And what can I do?"

"You will maintain your cover at all costs." The cruel certainty of those words jarred Severus's attention and he gawked at the man who was leading the side of the Light.

"You heard the prophecy, Albus. We  _need_  her." The old man paled and Severus resumed his pacing. Suddenly, a terrible burn swept up his left arm and he let out a hiss of pain. Albus, who knew that sound too well, turned to face his spy with dread.

"Do not break your cover, Severus. We will find a way to get her out." Severus glared at the old man.  _As if it is just that easy!_  Without another word, he swept from the office and headed toward the Forbidden Forest.  _Dammit Granger! I hope you're stronger than I think you are._


	7. Chapter 7

" _Crucio!_ " screeched the excited voice of Bellatrix Lestrange, and Hermione's body was racked once again with excruciating pain. It was as if the world was ripped away from her, or else she was ripped away from the world. And all she knew was the fire that ripped through her, searing her nerves like an electric whip. The pain ceased momentarily and Hermione became aware of her own screaming as it died away. She was gasping for breath against the cold, hard floor, finally understanding how a person could beg for death. In this moment, it did not matter to her if she lived any longer. All that she cared about was making the horrible torture stop.

"That's enough, Bella. We want her mind intact… for now," came the voice of the creature sitting upon the throne. Her first glimpse of Lord Voldemort had been terrifying. Nothing Harry had told them about the dark lord could have prepared her for his hideous presence. But now, amidst the chaos of the pain wracking her body, he was irrelevant. The most he could do was kill her, and that would be a blessing by comparison.

Suddenly, the dark lord swept toward her, using his wand to levitate her until her eyes were level with his own. "Let us see what the mudblood knows," he hissed. The word was never spoken, but she knew the moment he entered her mind. A terrible hatred filled her consciousness and she had never felt a darker presence. Even the horrible sadness that dementors brought could not compare to this. She felt as if a pit had opened up inside her mind and she was being sucked into the abyss of unlimited despair.

A quick flurry of images began to rip through her mind, and she tried not to focus on anything. She knew that there were thoughts in her mind that the dark lord should not see, but she couldn't filter those thoughts without thinking about which ones not to show him. Instead, she just focused on the pain that Bellatrix had caused her. Remembering Voldemort's obsession with negative emotions, she fed him the hate that she felt towards the dark witch. He latched onto that, which surprised and excited her. Perhaps she could just distract him.

Suddenly, he tore from her mind and released the levitation charm he had on her. Falling to the floor, her mind twisted in confusion and concern.  _Did he see something that made him angry?_  Her breath was knocked out of her as her back hit hard against the stone floor. She stayed there, motionless, staring up at the ornate ceiling. The magnificent painting did not faze her as her mind sought a plan. As long as she appeared to be submitting, he would underestimate her. She could take him by surprise.

And yet, one simple spoken word brought her immediately back to the present. " _Severusss_." She suppressed the need to whip around to see if he was really there. That probably wouldn't have been possible at this point, anyway. "Good of you to join usss."

"My Lord," came the deep reply of Professor Snape. Her body tensed, just knowing that he was there. She wasn't sure if she should feel relieved or frightened or embarrassed. "I came as quickly as I was able. I was in conference with the old fool. He is most distraught to find that his prized mudblood has been taken." Hermione felt a shiver of terror course through her veins. It occurred to her in this moment, that she really had no way of knowing where Severus Snape's true loyalties lied.

"Good," the dark lord replied with an ugly sneer. "Potter will come for her, and when he does… I will have my victory!" Hermione cringed at the image of Harry running to her rescue. She was now even more acutely aware of what a fool's mission that would be. It was very clear that she would not make it out of this room alive, whether or not Harry died in the interim. The world seemed to swim before her and she realized that her muscles were beginning to relax compulsively. She was entirely drained.

"He will not come. Dumbledore has locked him away and plans to leave him there until they find another way to save the girl. Or until you kill her, which would save them the trouble of containing the boy." Hermione's heart constricted. To be prepared for your own death was one thing. To hear that others were hoping for it was far more painful. "Might I suggest… an alternative?" The dark lord seemed to consider as Snape stepped around her prone body to stand beside him. Suddenly she could see her dark professor, his unfeeling black eyes resting indifferently upon her burning flesh. The first bout of tears welled up at this, as if there truly was no hope left for her. Even Professor Snape had written her off.

Silent streams of hot liquid poured across her cheeks as she thought back to all of the things that she had learned over the course of the past few years. And it had all been for nothing. Was this what chaos meant? The dark lord seemed to consider her professor before gesturing for him to continue.

"What did you have in mind, Severus?" Her professor hesitated only fractionally before responding.

"Imperius. We tell the old man that I have miraculously saved the girl…"

"No." The little bubble of hope that had started to form inside of Hermione was immediately squashed. Her professor was silent for a moment. "The Imperius can be undone. Dumbledore will ensure that she has not been connected to myself. And besides, the Imperius is something we could have accomplished without going through the trouble of actually  _catching_  her. No… we must do something else…" Voldemort began to pace, deep in thought, and her professor remained where he had been standing, not even glancing in her direction.

"Your idea is not without merit, Severusss. If the girl is forced to answer to you, she can become a spy for  _usss_." Snape bowed his head in humble acknowledgement. Suddenly, the dark lord stopped pacing and came to stand over her. Even as she flinched from his gaze, she told herself not to show him the fear that was festering inside of her. "She will sell herself into your slavery. Her service or her life." There was that little bubble of hope again. "Of course, one of my other loyal followers might more…  _appreciate_  her…  _services._  After all, she has submitted to my authority rather easily. And you prefer a challenge." Hermione's insides twisted with this statement.  _Has he seen that firsthand?_

"My Lord, this…  _brat_  is nothing if not difficult. She has been a thorn in my shoe for the past six years. I would be honored to take on this duty for you, if you choose to bestow it upon me." With that, Snape bent his head low and the dark lord seemed appeased.

" _Girl!_ " screeched Lord Voldemort. "Make your decision  _now_! Servitude to Severus, or death?" Hermione glanced toward her professor, whose expression was completely unreadable. Praying that he knew what he was doing, or that they would figure something out later—not to mention praying that Severus Snape really was on the side of the Light—Hermione found her voice.

"I will serve him," she said in a raspy voice that seemed foreign and wrong to her ears. The dark lord's malicious sneer caused a ripple of terror to lash through her. At this, Bellatrix felt the need to interrupt.

"You cannot trust him, my lord! He will spoil our good fortune in capturing the mudblood!" The dark lord held up a hand and Bellatrix stopped.

"Severus is my loyal servant and this girl will be his slave. He already sees her at Hogwarts. I think this arrangement will prove rather convenient for me. And, I'm sure Severus will… enjoy it as well." At the dark lord's hideous leer, Hermione fought the urge to gag.

"Come, girl!" It was the first thing that Snape had said to her and she jumped to attention immediately. As she stood on wobbly legs, her professor caught her wrist in a grip that stung painfully. She saw that he was waiting for permission from his liege lord. "May I?" he purred. Hermione's heart was pounding painfully in her chest. What was it that he meant to do to her?

"You may," came the reply. Suddenly the long length of her professor's wand was pressed against the underside of her left arm. He began an incantation under his breath as he pointed the tip hard into her flesh. Hermione bit back a scream as a horrible fire erupted beneath her skin where the wand was connected. Just then, the long, scaly fingers of the dark lord curled around her wrist as well as her professor's. He began an incantation as well and an image began to form beneath the surface of her skin. For one horrible moment, she thought that it would be the Dark Mark. But soon two runes appeared where the infamous snake and skull would have been. It only took a moment to verify that the runes meant 'mud' and 'blood.'

"Do you ssswear to ssserve?" the dark lord hissed, his red eyes boring into hers. She knew that consent was part of the spell. It would cause her to be compelled by his every command.

"I swear." It was all she could do. She only hoped that her professor had a plan. Suddenly, the pain became so excruciating that the world began to fade away and the last thing Hermione saw was the penetrating stare of two crazed, red eyes.

* * *

As the door swung open to admit Severus Snape into Grimmauld Place, he knew he would be confronted with pandemonium. That was the cost of being based out of the Black Residence. However, his main concern was the unconscious body of Hermione Granger, limp in his arms as he stepped into the narrow Entrance Hall. One shout and a crowd of Order members were surrounding him asking after the girl. It was clear, from their horrified expressions, that some of them believed her to be dead.

Pushing past the overzealous sympathizers, Severus swept toward his makeshift potions lab. He only stopped long enough to instruct Molly Weasley to inform Albus immediately, and to tell them all that no one would be permitted inside of his lab except for the Headmaster.

Once inside the safety of the room, he laid Granger on the bed and set about collecting the potions that she would need in order to recuperate. Placing them on the table beside her, he used Muffliato before magically waking her up. Sleepy cinnamon eyes swept blurrily about the room before settling on his frozen form in the chair beside the bed. Recognition suddenly bloomed across her face and she tried to sit up, searching the room frantically with her eyes.

"We are alone," he said softly, "This is Grimmauld Place." He watched her visibly relax and began to offer her potions. The first one, she seemed to consider, but she drank it without question along with all of the subsequent bottles. Just then, she must have remembered the spell for her arm ripped out from under the covers for her inspection. The pale flesh of her arm was completely free from markings and she began to scratch at it almost as if crazed. "Stop!" he shouted in horror, reaching for her arms. Immediately, her hands dropped down to the covers and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I-I have to obey you!" she shrieked in terror. He froze.

"Forgive me. I should not have commanded you." He met her eyes and was unnerved to realize that he could not read her expression. "Yes, you will be compelled by the magic of the spell to answer every command. I will try not to voice my… requests… in the form of commands."

"The runes… they were on my arm…"

"Yes. The runes will only be visible when you are compelled by the magic. This spell is an older and much stricter version of the Dark Mark. A long time ago, human slaves were compelled to answer their masters the way House Elves are. When we took the Dark Mark, we knew that it was a modified form of servitude. We are not compelled to answer to  _him_ , but we are commanded to come to his side. If we ignore his summons, the mark begins to sting.

"For you, this summons will be entirely different. Through this mark, I can force you to immediately appear before me. Just as you experienced with my command to stop scratching yourself, it is a painless compulsion. You merely  _will do_  as I say. You have no choice."

"Like the Imperius?" Severus shook his head.

"Not quite. With the Imperius, you are unaware that you are doing anything you wouldn't want to do. Your mind is completely absorbed with a need to obey the other person. With this, you can  _want_  not to, but your actions are no longer controlled by your own mind. That is why I will try not to command you to do anything." Severus knew, better than almost anyone, how horrible it was to be forced to obey without question. The girl looked down at her hands as she twisted them in the sheets.

"Professor?" she began nervously. He braced himself for what she was about to ask. "What is he going to make you make me do?" Severus sighed.

"I will be forced to command you to give me information about Potter. It is unclear at the moment whether he will request your presence before him, or trust the information that I bring to him from you. The latter would be far easier for us to manipulate. However, we must be prepared for the inevitability that you will be called before him. We will have no warning and we mustn't allow your information to fall into his hands." She nodded, looking sadly down at the sheets. He could feel that there was something else she wanted to ask, but she was afraid to do so. "Granger, is there something else?" She looked up at him fearfully and nodded. A lump in her throat was making speech difficult and she was focusing all of her attention on not crying.

"Vol—the dark lord… seemed to imply… that I would—I would…" She swallowed hard, tears threatening to push past her eyes, hard knot tangling the words in her throat. She was horrified to see that her hands were trembling. Severus took pity on the girl.

"That you would… be forced to…  _serve_  me… in other ways?" She nodded, rapidly blinking back tears. He sighed and looked down at the bed. Back at Malfoy Manor, with her death assured and his orders from Albus, this had seemed like such a small sacrifice. He had practically overlooked it in the face of the prophecy. But now, back at Grimmauld Place, with the fragile girl sitting so vulnerably in a bed in front of him, he was beginning to question the wisdom of that assessment. "The dark lord… assumes… that I will use the power I have over you to… force you to… satisfy other… needs. He believes this because it is the way any of his other followers would behave. Unfortunately, if you are to be brought before him with any kind of regularity; or if your presence is requested at the revels… I can only make so many excuses." He watched the girl take in this news with a newfound bravery, lifting her chin and breathing in a long breath to steady herself. Oddly, where he would have chucked it all down to Gryffindor pride, this bravery made him feel proud of her somehow.

* * *

It wasn't until after Snape and Dumbledore had gone that Hermione succumbed to the tears. They had decided that she should stay in that little room for the night and deal with the rest of the Order in the morning. She was not looking forward to telling her friends what had happened. Dumbledore had decided that they should be somewhat aware of the situation, but would not know the full extent of the connection between herself and Professor Snape.

For now, crying into unfamiliar sheets and holding Crookshanks against herself—he had been allowed to stay here with her, despite Snape's vehemence that the cat would destroy the brewing Wolfsbane—Hermione allowed herself to feel the self-pity that she had held back in front of her professors. As she began to drift off to sleep, a sudden thought occurred to her.  _If Snape is Hades, I suppose that makes me Persephone._


	8. Chapter 8

What the  _bloody hell_  had he been thinking?! At the time, it had made perfect sense. It even went along with the prophecy that she would not be free when she escaped. Of course, he definitely shouldn't have just left her there and waited for Albus to formulate a plan. The girl would be beyond recovery by that point, not that that was the important thing in the long run. No, the important thing was that the primary objective of the Order of the Phoenix was not compromised. And also that his role as spy was not revealed. Well, technically, both of those requirements had been met with his solution.

And yet, the more he thought about the situation he had put himself into, the more horrible it seemed. Circumventing the laws of the slave contract would not be difficult. He already had ideas about that. However, it was only a matter of time before Lucius demanded that he bring his new toy to a revel. He couldn't even make excuses about being unable to sneak her away from Dumbledore, because he now had the ability to call her to his side at any time.  _Damn it all to hell!_  In a few short days it would be too long after her capture to give off the excuse that she was being watched constantly.

Idly Severus wondered if the girl was a virgin. It was entirely too likely, and his so-called 'brothers' would find it very suspicious if she were still a virgin by the time she was called to join in the festivities. His mind swam with images of her tortured face amidst a crowd of eager Death Eaters. It made him nauseous to even consider the possibilities. At least he would be able to protect her from any of the other men with the excuse that he was possessive of his little treasure. Severus shivered in disgust.  _What the hell was I thinking?!_

* * *

It was time. Hermione had been lying awake for nearly an hour, but she knew she should not postpone the inevitable. Everyone was waiting to hear how she was doing and what had happened. She was very well aware that neither Snape nor Dumbledore had bothered to give the rest of the house an accounting. A couple of days ago, she would not have expected such inconsideration from the cheery Headmaster they all knew and loved. But she had been deeply hurt by Snape's words to the dark lord, implying that her death would be merely a sacrifice to the greater cause. She had not quite been able to look Professor Dumbledore in the eye when he had come to talk to her the night before. Everything he had to say was basically a reiteration of what Snape had already told her. They would find a way to keep Harry's secrets from the dark lord. They would try to protect her the best they could. There was no telling if she would have to return to that dark hall, or not.

Hermione dutifully downed the potions that had been left beside her bed and silently thanked Snape once again for giving her Dreamless Sleep. She was certain that she would have had nightmares otherwise—if she had been able to get to sleep at all. Taking in a fortifying breath, Hermione slid off of the narrow bed and went to open the door.

To her surprise, no one was stationed within view of the door, waiting for her to wake. She was not sure why that should have surprised her, but it did in a very lonely sort of way. The lonely feeling was soon squashed, however, when she entered the kitchen.

It seemed like all of Grimmauld Place was gathered there, jumbled around the small space with plates of breakfast foods. A quick scan told her that Professor Snape was not present, however. Relief and disappointment seemed to war within her with this realization even as a sinking feeling reminded her that that meant she would have to give them her account all alone. She suddenly felt as if she was placed on a pedestal with no one to brace her and she was losing her balance.

"Hermione!" cried Ron, excitedly, jarring her nerves and sending her heart into an anxious rhythm. Poor stupid Ron. He just didn't understand the fragile state she was in.

Suddenly everyone's eyes were on her and there was complete silence for what seemed an eternity. Then, as if on cue, everyone began moving again, setting down their plates and crowding around her to offer her support and ask her a million questions at once. This she had been expecting. What caught her off guard, however, was the blatant pity she could see in all of their eyes. She didn't want them to pity her. It only made her feel like more of a fool for sneaking off the path. It was her own damn fault and she had very nearly ruined everything for all of them. If it hadn't been for Snape…

"Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley began, butting in past everyone else to offer her a strong hand, "come have some breakfast. We'll talk about all of that later." Hermione flashed the Weasley Matriarch a grateful smile and allowed herself to be led farther into the room. Soon a plate of food and a hot mug of tea were placed in front of her, but she found she had no appetite. Nibbling on the corners of the toast and sipping her tea, which was far too sweet for her mood, she tried to ignore the concerned stares of everyone else at the table. Couldn't they all just leave her alone!?

Instead she focused all of her attention on the plate in front of her, eating mechanically, in order to dodge any more concern from the others. She thought back to the story of Persephone. The young girl had been stolen by Hades and brought down to the Underworld to be his unwilling bride. While she was down there, she ate six seeds from a pomegranate. She had been unaware of the law that anyone who ate the food of the Underworld could never leave. By the time her mother, Demeter, was finally able to persuade Zeus to demand her return, it was too late. Demeter argued that six seeds was barely anything, but Zeus had been unable to completely circumvent the law. Finally, they reached a compromise where Persephone was allowed to stay with her mother for six months of the year, and returned to Hades for the other half. Thus, the Nature Goddess went into mourning six months of the year, causing the seasons to change.

Hermione suddenly became aware that no one was speaking. Everyone else had already finished their meals and she was still sliding her eggs around her plate. She looked up in time to see Mrs. Weasley and Remus share a concerned look. That made her inexplicably angry.  _Of course_ , she wasn't feeling quite right.  _Of course,_ she was quiet and withdrawn. She had just been tortured at the hand of Lord Voldemort, for Merlin's sake! She had just been forced to sell herself into magical slavery to the one man who hated her more than anyone else in the world! Not that she could tell any of them any of that.

Hermione realized that they were all waiting for her to give some sort of explanation and it infuriated her. She didn't owe them anything! They didn't  _need_  to know any of the details! They only  _wanted_  to because they were consumed with morbid curiosity. They probably wanted her to tell them that she had been raped and tortured endlessly for hours. They probably wanted to join in her misery and pity her and pat her on the back, wishing her condolences. After all, for many of them, this was the most excitement they'd had all summer. Suppressing the urge to gag in disgust, Hermione excused herself from the table and left the room.

She gathered up her books and went to the one room where she could be completely alone: Snape's potions lab. Lying on the bed, she stayed frozen for a moment, allowing the anger to wash over her in hot, seething waves until she ran out of steam. Then, she pulled open her Mythology book and turned to the section on Persephone. She had read this section before, and it did not hold her attention. Instead, she continued to contemplate the events of the day before until she slowly drifted off to sleep again.

Hermione did not wake when the door first opened. Severus Snape was a stealthy man. She did not wake until he stepped over to her and began to speak in that dry, condescending tone of his. "Were you planning to sleep all day, Miss Granger?" she jumped awake and caught her professor's gaze. "If I had known that, I would not have permitted you the use of my lab." Then, his eyes trailed down her pajama clad body until they reached the book on her lap. Even upside down, it was clear that he was able to read the title of the page she had been reading. His eyes met hers again and he raised a brow, inquiring in a mocking way. Noticing this, she slammed the book shut and stacked it together with the others she had brought down with her.

"Please, professor. This is the only place where I can get away from  _them_." He hesitated, but then his lips turned up in a wicked sneer.

"Miss Granger, if you think that I am going to treat you any differently, you are sadly mistaken. I owe you  _nothing_." Hermione blinked up at him in momentary confusion.  _What?_

"No… I… I didn't mean…"

"You will have to deal with  _them_  at some point. This was your own doing. Don't you remember what I told you about consequences? I would have  _thought_  that you would have learned that lesson by now." Hermione couldn't believe her ears. The bastard was actually blaming this all on her. Well… that is… it was kind of her fault… but that was a low blow all the same.

And yet… she found it somehow refreshing that at least one person didn't pity her. "Fine," she said simply, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin as she collected her books and left him alone to his brwing. After all, everyone had already checked the library for her. She would be just as safe in there.

* * *

The moment the door closed behind the foolish chit, Severus let out a long sigh of frustration. Once again he was completely in over his head. Except, this time, he didn't really know what to do.  _Better the devil you know_ , he thought. At least he knew how to play the games he was constantly forced to play with Dumbledore and the dark lord. But Granger was a different story. He couldn't quite  _read_  her the way he could other people. Not that she didn't wear her emotions on her sleeve, but that she didn't react the way he expected her to. He never knew how she was going to respond. It was oddly refreshing and completely frustrating at the same time.

She had looked so peaceful when he had first entered the room. Her exhausted body had been sprawled out on top of the covers with a book open on her stomach. There was something so sincere and almost intimate about that picture that he found himself both attracted to and repulsed by it. He had felt like he was intruding, somehow, and had reacted the only way he knew how. He had been mean.

He didn't regret it, either. It was her fault that they were placed in this position. And he was naturally going to become the villain. At least he wanted to make sure that  _she_  knew who was truly to blame. Severus brushed away thoughts of the girl and pulled out the ingredients he had brought back from Hogwarts. Finally, he would be able to work on his experiment.

And yet, he suddenly had no inspiration to do so.

* * *

Hermione tossed the Mythology book to the side. She had hidden herself back in the stacks of the small library, sitting against the wall between two shelves. She hoped that that would be enough to keep from being found. Bored with the books she had brought with her, Hermione began scanning the books around her, looking for more texts on the subjects she had been studying. When she had glanced over all of the books in her own aisle, she finally decided to branch out to the other parts of the library. No one was going to come in here, anyway.

Finally, she found something that looked promising:  _Explaining Enchantments: Sorts of Spells and Waves of Wands._  She pulled it from its place and took it over to her little hideaway on the other side of the room. Cracking open the new book, she felt a tingle of excitement that she had, not very long ago, thought she would never feel again.

The first part of the book dealt with explaining the difference between different types of spells. There were several categories: Transfiguration spells, Charms, Jinxes, Hexes, Curses, Counter-Spells, and Healing Spells. There was a subcategory under Transfiguration for Conjuration. Charms changed the quality, behavior, or capabilities of an object. Jinxes were mostly harmless and required eye contact. A Hex was basically a more severe version of a Jinx with no eye contact requirement. Curses were the darkest form of spell. There was a subsection under Counter-Spell for each different type of spell, but they basically inhibited the action of another spell. And Healing spells, obviously, healed. So far, Hermione hadn't really learned anything at all.

_Of the three major components of a spell—Incantation, Wand Movement, and Intent—only Intent must always be present. Witches and Wizards with advanced knowledge and experience performing spells can learn to do magic nonverbally or without a wand, but spells always require the caster to concentrate on his or her intentions._

Well, Hermione supposed that made sense. They had begun to learn to cast spells nonverbally, and she had seen her professors occasionally do wandless magic.

_Transfigurations are to Charms what Form is to Function. While Transfigurations change what an object_ is _, Charms change what an object_ does _._

Hermione decided to skip ahead to the second part of the book dealing with Wand Movement. As those chapters merely detailed the different kinds of movements one could make with a wand, Hermione set the book aside. What she really needed was to talk with someone who had actually invented a spell. Her stomach growled and she suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten since breakfast. Sighing deeply, she gathered up her books and slowly made her way down to the basement kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

So far so good. She had made it down to the kitchen unnoticed and found it empty. Opting for a sandwich as easy to take with her should the need arise, Hermione set about gathering ingredients to stuff between two slices of dark bread. She was so wound up and concentrated as she sliced a tomato that she nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry's voice sounded behind her.

"Hermione?" She shrieked before she could suppress that response and turned to look at her best friend, all the tension from earlier melting away with her startled laughter. The messy-haired boy gave her an uncertain smile and she could see that same concern in his eyes. It was not exactly pity and she reminded herself that he, too, had faced Voldemort on multiple occasions. "Are you alright?" he said. The worry was genuine and she suddenly felt tears spring to her eyes at that realization.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tight into his embrace. The sobs seemed to come out of nowhere. She had not realized just how much emotion was really pent up inside of her until now. All of the fear, guilt, embarrassment, pain, and hatred that she had felt came back to the surface all at once and all she could do was let him hold her while she cried. He waited patiently for her tears to subside before trying to speak to her again.

"We've all been really worried about you, Hermione," he said softly. She felt unaccountably guilty for thinking that his concern had only been out of boredom.  _Of course,_ they were concerned. They cared about her.

They loved her.

"I know, Harry. I'm sorry. It's just been really hard." He hesitated and she knew he was torn about whether or not he should ask her any more.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione took in a deep, fortifying breath and reached for her sandwich.

"I suppose I'd better. But let's go ahead and get Ron and Ginny so I don't have to explain it all twice." Harry smiled and took her hand, leading her from the basement kitchen all the way to the bedroom she shared with Ginny. Ron and his sister were already there. They stopped talking the moment Hermione entered the room. Both seemed wary, as if they were afraid they might frighten her off again.

"Hello," Hermione said awkwardly. They both visibly relaxed and Ginny leapt up.

"Oh, Hermione! You really scared us, you know!" she said as she wrapped her arms around the other girl. Ron came to join them, embracing both girls with his rather longer arms.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione gasped around her sobs which had returned, though weaker this time. It touched her to feel so loved. A fleeting thought made her wonder how Snape ever recovered from the trauma he was constantly subjected to without friends like hers.

Harry had joined in the group hug and Ron started swaying them back and forth. Giggles started to erupt within the jumble of friends and soon they were all laughing heartily. By the time they broke up and sat down, Hermione was in tears from her laughter.

Hours later, after explaining what she could to her friends—she left out the part about being enslaved to their Potions Master—the cheery mood was beginning to wear Hermione down. It had certainly been good to talk to her friends, but she didn't quite feel like she could rejoin them. She needed time away from all of that for the time being. She needed time to heal.

Hermione showered and dressed in her pajamas before gathering her books and slipping off towards the potions lab. She just couldn't sleep in that room with Ginny tonight, and she wasn't above begging. Knocking on the door, there was no response, so she let herself in. The dark eyes of Severus Snape challenged her boldness as she stepped through the door.

"Can I please sleep here, Professor? You wouldn't have to leave. You can stay as long as you want. And I'll be really quiet. I just… don't want to be around all that… cheerfulness… right now." Snape considered her with an unreadable expression before quirking a lip in a resigned sneer.

"If that is what it will take to make you leave me alone, then by all means…" he gestured for her to take the bed, and she happily obliged him. It was clear that he didn't know how to simply be nice to her, but she knew that his scorn was pretty half-hearted under the circumstances.

"Thank you, sir." She hopped up onto the bed, made herself comfortable, and opened the first spell writing book that she had found before speaking again. "Sir?"

"Granger, don't make me regret this," he said evenly without looking up from his work.

"Sorry, Professor. Last thing, I swear. I just wanted to say… thank you… for saving me." He looked over at her, then, almost suspiciously, as if he had never been thanked like that before. Then, his eyes darted down to the book on her lap. His brow furrowed.

"Experimenting with spell invention, Granger? Merlin help whoever is in this house when you make your first attempt." She wrinkled her nose playfully at him.

"I will have to read a lot more about spell creation before I even begin to attempt experimenting." He sneered at her.

"Of course you will." She knew he was mocking her, but couldn't see a basis for the sarcasm. She brought her eyes back to the text in front of her, but found that she couldn't focus on the words. Her attention was still riveted on the man sharing the room with her, currently stirring a cauldron.

"What are you brewing, sir?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Granger…" he warned.

"Sorry, sir." She said quickly before he could kick her out.

"It's Lupin's Wolfsbane. A very intensive potion. It requires a lot of…  _concentration_." His not-so-subtle hint was enough to squelch the other questions that started popping into her head.

* * *

He could feel her eyes on him and it was really fucking with his concentration. The Wolfsbane was indeed a difficult potion, and any tiny mistake could be fatal for Lupin. It was imperative that he block out the thought that she was watching him. And why  _would_  she be watching him? Was she thinking about the mark beneath her skin and the fact that one day soon she might have to sleep with him? Just the thought made his face grow warm. She was clearly such an innocent, and he was anything but.

Occasional glances in her direction brought to his attention the fact that Granger was, once again, only wearing a thin t-shirt and shorts. He had never made a habit out of noticing these things about his female students. And yet, these students had always been more than just students. And Granger was now connected to him in a completely different way. Was it very wrong for him to consider those round, little breasts, and the fact that he would be forced to touch them? Was it terrible that he wasn't exactly  _not_  looking forward to that?  _Merlin, I really am a sodding desperate bastard._

He felt so guilty for thinking these things, and yet, it had been her own fault.  _He_  was the one who had been forced into this situation because of her own stupid mistake. In fact, he realized, no one had actually bothered to ask the girl yet exactly why she had strayed off the path. It wasn't hard to guess, since she had gone missing in Flourish and Blotts, but he still felt compelled to ask.

"Granger?" the girl jumped to attention, startling out of her reverie. "What were you doing when you were captured?" He saw her guilty eyes dart down to the covers and watched a steady blush blossom on her cheeks, spreading down her neck to disappear beneath the collar of her shirt. Idly, he found himself wondering if that pink would tinge her little breasts. " _Granger?_ " he repeated, more forcefully. Then, he was hit with sudden inspiration. "Shall we use it as practice?" Her eyes grew wide and locked onto his.  _Big mistake._

He entered her mind without even raising his wand or whispering a command. It was obvious that she did not immediately recognize his presence, as he caught bits of her thoughts about him.  _Merlin, why is he staring at me like that? Is he going to do it? What will I make him think?_ His own voice answered  _The truth._  Startled, her mind immediately jumped to the scene in Flourish and Blotts and he caught hold of it.  _Voldemort was much rougher,_  he heard her think as the scene began to replay. He was a bit disappointed that she hadn't gotten a glimpse of her attacker. When he withdrew from her mind, a sneer was already plastered on his face.

"A book, Granger? You risked everything, despite Molly's extensive warnings, you were captured, you were tortured, and now we're in this impossible situation, all for a  _book_?" He was being intentionally mean, he realized. After all, he had already guessed that this was the case long before having it confirmed by her memories. Her chin came up in defiance.

"I will not apologize for my intellectual pursuits," she said arrogantly. He placed the cauldron on a dresser in the corner of the room and leaned against it, crossing his arms and facing her with a malicious sneer.

"Let us all hope that your  _intellectual pursuits_  do not damage our chances at victory any more than they already have." The girl blanched at that, and he felt a teensy weensy twinge of remorse. It occurred to him, once again, that neither he nor the Headmaster had bothered to tell the girl about the prophecy. He had not been given orders about it, but it was likely that Albus merely knew he would not tell her. It almost seemed unfair. And yet, he wondered if she might take it the wrong way, and either be offended or overwhelmed. After all, if the prophecy was to be believed—and his experience told him to believe it—she would play a vital part in the upcoming war.

They had always known that the Brains of the Golden Trio would be important in Potter's fight against the dark lord. And yet, the prophecy made it seem like she might play an even more important role than they had imagined.  _The key to his demise._  Severus suddenly realized that he had been staring at the girl and that she appeared to be very uncomfortable. He was just about to leave when she finally spoke.

"Professor?" He froze. He knew that tone. That was the tone of a Gryffindor who had something she desperately didn't want to say, but was going to bravely say it anyway. "I know we're going to have a lot of… challenges… ahead of us, but I think it would all be a lot easier if we came to some sort of truce…" His features hardened at that. No. She had affected him too much already. The very fabric of his existence would be ripped out from under him if he was forced to be  _nice_  to her, too.

"I told you, Granger. I will not treat you differently. As far as I am concerned, I am still your professor, and you are still my student. You must face the consequences of your own actions, Miss Granger. No one was there to help me. You already have enough people on your side." With that, he swept from the room. Hermione stared after him, her mouth agape in shock. It was official: Severus Snape would always,  _always_  be a bastard.

And tonight, there was no Dreamless Sleep.

* * *

Cold stone chilled her bare flesh as the red eyes of a hundred men stared down at her. Somewhere, someone was laughing maniacally and pain was tearing through her body, causing her to jerk about on the hard floor. To her horror, each bout of Cruciatus forced another secret from her lips, and she knew that Voldemort was pleased. Wherever he was. And then, she realized, he was not in the room because he was inside her mind, ripping through memories of Professor Snape.

Suddenly, the two were standing over her, talking about her as if she were a tile in the marble floor. "You have been lying to me about the girl, Severussss," the snake-man said. Snape's features stretched in a horrible leer.

"No, My Lord. I have lied to the girl, not to you. Never to you."

"Prove it!" Suddenly, her professor was on top of her, and the crowds were cheering him on. His face twisted in hatred until he became the dark lord, himself. Hermione screamed, desperate to get away from him, but he commanded her to stop and she obeyed.

Actually screaming, Hermione bolted up in the bed, taking in her surroundings.  _A dream, just a dream. A nightmare!_  She collapsed against the pillows, panting painfully. It had all seemed so real and believable that now, she couldn't imagine Professor Snape as a benevolent character in this scenario. What if he truly was a spy? What if he really did force her to tell her secrets to the dark lord? What if he really forced her to… do other things?

She belatedly realized that she was crying as her hands came up to rub the sleep from her eyes. It was still the middle of the night, but she knew she would not be able to sleep now. Not without a potion. And she certainly wasn't about to ask  _him_  for one. In fact, Hermione didn't know how she would be able to speak to him for a while after this. She was well and truly shaken and completely unsure of her belief in her professor, for the first time in her life. Hermione turned onto her side, hugging Crookshanks tight to her.

It took a moment to process that the book on the table beside her was not one of the ones she had been reading. In fact, she had not had a book on that table when she had gone to sleep. She had no doubt  _who_  had placed the book there for her and was momentarily confused about how she should feel. Part of her was really creeped out by the fact that he had come in here while she had been sleeping and that she had had no idea. But she also thought that it was touching that he had brought her a book. Of course, the title of the book might make a difference in her feelings toward his bold action. Lifting the heavy tome so that she could see the title, Hermione gasped. There, glinting in the pale light filtering in through the shabby curtains of her room, she could see the gold letters on the worn cover of the book:  _The Theory of Incantation_   _8th_ _Edition_ _. It was funny. With the book tilted up as it was and her head still on the pillow, the golden "8" was turned on its side once more._


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione sat up in bed and pulled the old tome onto her lap. It was a little rough around the edges, suggesting that it had been read several times already. She slowly opened the front cover, barely noting the " _This book is the property of Severus Snape"_  scrawled in familiar spidery writing inside. A quick flip through the pages told her that this text had been heavily annotated. A thrill ran down her spine at the prospect of reading her professor's notes on the material. She was amazed that he had trusted her with his own copy. And yet, there was something familiar about that dark ink slashed across the margins.

Turning back to the Table of Contents, her eager eyes scanned the list of chapters.  _Oh yes, this looks much more promising!_  Hermione dove into the text, absorbing the information like a dehydrated sponge.

_Magic is more than a phenomenon; it is an entity. Once a successful spell has been invented, Magic recognizes the connection of Incantation, Wand Movement, and Intention as a complete spell. The spell that has been created can then be copied by other wizards. It is in this way that we are able to build upon the works of other witches and wizards._

Hermione had never thought of it that way. In a way, it was a little creepy to think of Magic as being somehow aware, but it was also rather fascinating.

_The Incantation is usually selected from the Latin words for what the caster wishes to accomplish. This is due to the fact that the use of Incantation with Magic began in Ancient Rome with the Cult of Trivia (the Roman equivalent of the Greek Hecate), the Goddess of Witchcraft._

Hermione made a mental note to read the section on Trivia in her Mythology book.

_The movements selected for a particular spell are dependent on the complexity of the spell itself. The last movement of the wand sends the magic toward the object at which it is directed. All preceding movements layer the pieces of the spell together before it is cast. Therefore, the more a particular spell is supposed to accomplish, the more complicated the movements of the wand must be. Pairing incorrect movements with an Incantation is far more dangerous than choosing an Incantation that is inappropriate for the Intent, itself._

_Fascinating!_ Hermione's stomach began to growl and she decided to head down to the kitchen, reading her book all the way.

* * *

They were back on the staircase of Grimmauld Place. Her body was pressed against his as it had been the other night. Sliding down. Her soft, round breasts were crushed against his chest. And she was in a towel. He did not take the time to notice whether or not the towel was right-side-out. His mind was more occupied with the fact that said towel was slowly slipping off. In an instant, she was naked before him. And he was naked too. Soft flesh. Sliding down, lower and lower. Her breasts slipped over the hardened muscle of his thighs and soon her mouth was level with his throbbing erection. "Do it." He commanded, but they had found a way to circumvent the law. She didn't  _have_  to comply.

And yet, she did. Slowly, her pretty, little lips wrapped around his aching cock. It was almost more than he could bear. And then, he was fucking her into a mattress; the mattress in his potions lab. And she was shouting his name as she cried out in ecstasy beneath him.  _He was going to come._

Severus bolted up in the bed, his member throbbing painfully. The guilt instantly began to wash over him again. Here she was, innocent of innocents, stuck in a situation where she would have to have sex with her professor, and he was having dreams about it! He was fucking  _looking forward to it!_  Not allowing himself release from this perversion, Severus jumped out of bed and hurried to a cold shower.

Once he had cooled the fire inside of him, Severus decided to head down to the kitchen. Slipping through the door with silent ease, he saw the Granger girl long before she noticed him. Her nose was buried in his book as she sipped her tea. A plate of untouched toast sat in front of her. He knew the moment she registered his appearance. Her head snapped up and for a moment, they were both frozen, calculating. The wariness in her eyes made another surge of guilt well up inside of him. She was afraid of him. How could he fantasize about her when all she felt for him in return was fear?

Suddenly, a small smile spread across her face. "Thank you for the book, professor." He blinked in surprise before grunting his reply and heading to the tea kettle. Hiding behind a mug of the hot brew, he sat across from the girl and studied her concentrated features. She was still the bushy haired know-it-all who had been the bane of his existence in every potions class for six years. And yet, she had certainly blossomed without his noticing. Her slim face drew attention to those big, cinnamon eyes, and the faint spattering of freckles across her pale cheeks no longer seemed childish. Her teeth were straight now. He wondered when that had been corrected, and if it had been done magically or at the hands of her dentist parents. As her eyes flitted rapidly across the page, her teeth worried a plump, red lip. It was the only color on her face in this dim light and thus captured his attention.

A sudden flash of the scene from his dream came to mind and he quickly suppressed the image of those soft, red lips wrapped around his hard, aching…

"Professor?" Severus met the girl's eyes, silently cursing himself for his train of thought even as he felt himself growing hard again. Perhaps he had just been neglecting himself for too long. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "You obviously have a lot of thoughts on the subject of spell creation. Have you ever created a spell?" Severus quirked a lip in mocking disdain.

"No, Miss Granger. I have enough insight into the subject to correct many of the ideas presented in the text you have before you, and I have theoretical hypotheses scribbled in the margins; but no, Granger, I have never actually created a spell." He was surprised to see her impatient glare in his direction. In the past, Granger had reacted to his sarcasm with the same understandable fear that the rest of his students generally showed. And yet, now, when she should have been more afraid of him than ever, she was merely impatient with his stubborn attitude.

"There's no need to be snippy. It may have been a stupid question, but you don't usually respond to abruptness and I needed a segue." He curled a lip. So, she thought she had him pinned, did she?

"What do you want, Granger?"  _How's that for abruptness?_  She gave a short  _harrumph_  of impatience before lifting her chin and sitting up straighter. He recognized the posture as her I'm-about-to-answer-a-question pose.

"Well, I've been researching spell creation, and the theory is pretty straightforward," he snorted disbelievingly, "In  _theory_ ," she continued with a glare. "The only thing is, I understand that experimenting with spell creation can be rather hazardous and I was hoping to get some advice directly from someone who has gone through the process before." Severus set his mug on the table and leaned forward, steepling his fingers under his chin as his elbows rested on the tabletop. Ah, yes. Nothing like Hermione Granger in full-blown know-it-all mode to deflate his growing enthusiasm.

"What kind of spell are you hoping to create,  _Miss Granger_?" His condescension had no effect on the girl who jumped excitedly into her explanation.

"Well, I spent the first half of the summer with my parents, and I was using their internet. It occurred to me that finding information in the muggle world is so much easier than it is in the magical world. Well, I thought, that was pretty ridiculous. Surely we must have come up with something by now that would make research more efficient. And yet, I was unable to find any such spell. So, I've been thinking, if only there were some way to point a person in the direction of a book that contained information on a particular subject, it would be so much easier to find what that person was looking for." Severus kept his face blank, but he was secretly impressed with this idea. The Internet was only a vague, abstract idea to him, but it was an interesting proposition.

"That sounds rather complex for a first spell. Perhaps you should start with something smaller?" He watched the girl's face drop in disappointment, and was satisfied that he had been the cause.

"I don't have any simpler ideas," she said softly.

"Start with something basic; a charm." He suggested. She shrugged her shoulders, almost as if in defeat, and picked her book back up. Something in the lines of her face, however, told him that she thought she could handle a more difficult spell than he expected. The frustrated annoyance that he would have expected to feel at that was replaced by a sort of amused pride.  _Odd._ Their silence continued until Black arrived to disturb the peace.

"Hermione!" he said, much to the girl's obvious chagrin.

"Oh, hello Sirius." The mongrel leaned close to Granger and Severus could feel anger rising up within him even before he heard Black whisper loudly in the girl's ear.

"Snape isn't bothering you, is he?" Her cinnamon eyes met his immediately and he could see a blush spreading across her pretty face as her lips parted in horrified surprise. "Because I can get rid of him, if you need me to."

"Can you?" Snape challenged, unable to stop himself. Granger froze like a cornered rabbit.

"If I find that you have been  _harassing_  Hermione, I won't hesitate." Severus grinned knowingly at the girl before responding.

"And what will you do?" he teased. Black was getting all worked up, his hands on the back of Granger's chair, his dark gaze fixed on Severus, and his hand twitching to grab his wand.

"I'll send you back to the depths of hell, where you belong!" It took Severus a moment to process the fact that the girl had blanched at this, and before he could respond, she butted in.

"Sirius! Professor Snape has not been bothering me. In fact, you ought to show him a bit more respect, because really he saved my life." Black backed away in shock, but his eyes darted cynically back to Severus's rigid form.

"Did he now?" The mutt's crazed features twisted with malice. "And how did he go about that? I suppose he just waltzed into Voldemort's lair and plucked you up? And the dark lord still trusts him unconditionally?" Severus leapt to his feet, feeling pulses of pure loathing in his veins. The girl had paled, but Severus did not even take the time to notice. His attention was focused on Black.

"For your information,  _Black_ , that is exactly what I did! On Dumbledore's orders. And aren't you glad that the dark lord believes in me so completely? Because if he didn't, Miss Granger would not be here with us at the moment! Instead, she would either have lost her mind from the effects of the Cruciatus, or she would likely be slowly being digested in the stomach of a giant snake!" Black paled immediately and he felt a rush of satisfaction before his gaze swept over to Granger. Her own face had turned a shade of green and she lurched out of her seat, running from the room as if she was about to be sick.

 _Fuck!_  He hadn't even been thinking of the effect those words might have on the girl.  _Fuck!_  He, himself, was so desensitized to the horrors of the dark side that he hadn't even realized how horrible that thought could be. Until now. He turned back to Black, realizing that the other man was glaring daggers at him. And for once, he knew he absolutely deserved it. For that reason only, he did not stop the mutt as he ran out of the room to find the girl.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

* * *

Hermione retched into the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that the scenario Snape had outlined in such vivid detail was exactly what would have happened to her. Tears ran down her face, both from the physical pain and humiliation of being sick and from the emotional torment and fear that swirled inside of her. Part of her knew she should probably be angry with Snape for bringing about these feelings, but all she could feel was gratitude toward the man for saving her from that ghastly fate. What was she to him, after all? She played a small part in the upcoming war, but it was nothing substantial enough to warrant him jeopardizing his position as a spy. Of course, he hadn't ever actually jeopardized it, she supposed.

"Hermione?" came Sirius's voice through the door. "Are you alright?" She groaned, more from irritation than from pain.

"I'm fine. Please, just leave me alone." But Sirius was persistent.

"Do you need help with anything?" Hermione resisted the urge to retort that she could very well gag on her own.

"No. Thank you." Would the man just go away? Apparently not.

"You know, I'm here to talk if you ever need somebody." He continued. She stood and faced her reflection in the mirror.

"I'm alright, Sirius. Really."  _Besides being a little green_. She rinsed her mouth out several times before gulping down some of the sweet water and splashing it on her face. Some of the color was returning to her cheeks, at least.

"Alright, well, my offer stands." Then, Sirius's voice grew low. "If you ever need  _anything_ … Hermione…" The way he said her name was like a caress and she suppressed the urge to gag again. Couldn't he just leave her alone? Apparently not. "You know, you have grown into a beautiful, young woman, and it just isn't fair that this is happening to you. I just want you to know that I'm there, alright? Promise me you'll come to me if you need something?" Hermione felt anger bubbling up inside of her. The last thing she needed was another man to answer to.

"Thanks, Sirius. I'll keep that in mind," she said evasively.

"Promise?" Hermione felt like throttling him, but knew that his intentions were good. Well, she supposed they were good.

"I promise," she said, finally.  _I promise to keep it in mind,_  she thought ruefully.  _Please let that be the end of it!_

"Thank you," he murmured softly against the door. She listened for his retreating footsteps, but he lingered outside the bathroom for a few moments before finally slipping away.  _Merlin, what the bloody hell has happened to my life?_

* * *

Severus reluctantly stepped inside Lucius's study. His aristocratic friend had extended an elegant invitation to the Slytherin Head to join him for a brandy that evening. It was not unusual, and was usually harmless, but Severus had a sense of foreboding about the visit. It was likely that his friend wanted to talk about Granger.

"Severus!" came the cheerful greeting of his oldest friend. "So good of you to come! I was afraid you might be… otherwise occupied." His suggestive tone, coupled with a leering wink left Severus with no doubt about his meaning.

"Ah, yes," the younger wizard replied, "But I can usually manage to pull myself away long enough for a brandy with an old friend." He sneered as he accepted a tumbler of the amber liquid and made himself comfortable in one of the wingback chairs beside the fireplace. Many nights he had sat in this very place, talking to Lucius, warming his frozen soul with a bit of brandy and a toasty fire. It was rather late in the summer for a fire tonight, and he knew that nothing about this meeting would leave him warmer.

"Hermione Granger, is it?"  _Ah, so we're jumping right to it, then?_  He inclined his head in reply and watched the features of the elegant blond twist into a horrible leer. "Do her little friends know?"

"No." Lucius laughed.

"All the better!"

"Well, as the entire point is that she is supposed to spy on them for me, I suppose it is better that way." Lucius grinned back at him.

"Ah, yes. I had forgotten." Of course he had. All that concerned him was the prospect of sex. "Was she a virgin?" Exhibit A. Severus forced himself to leer back at the other wizard.

"Yes." Lucius's eyes lit up with lust and Severus knew what he was going to ask next.

"Would you care to share her with an old friend?" Snape curled his lip in a knowing smirk.

"No." He watched Lucius pout over that. But really, had he expected anything different?

"Fine. You've always been strange about that, Severus. You will bring her to a revel, of course? At least allow me the pleasure of  _watching_." Severus inclined his head. This was something he hoped to avoid for as long as he could.

"We will see."

"You won't be able to avoid it for long, old friend. Once the rest of our brothers realize what a prize you have been given, they will demand that you share her."

"She belongs to  _me_. I will  _not_  share what is rightfully  _mine_." Severus was vehement on this point. The worst he would allow to happen to the girl was for her to sleep with himself, and that was pretty much a necessity, he realized. It was too risky hoping that no one discovered her virginity and began asking questions.

"Fine. Fine, Severus. I doubt anyone would be foolish enough to challenge you for her. But they will demand a show. You know they will." Severus nodded solemnly, sipping his brandy.

"I know."


	11. Chapter 11

The girl was sitting up in the little bed in his potions lab reading when he returned from his visit with Lucius. The book was not his own, as that one had been placed back on the table beside the bed. But he recognized the cover all the same. It was the book about Muggle deities he had seen during her Occlumency lesson. She looked up and smiled to acknowledge his presence, but then dove back into her reading.  _What could be so interesting about a bunch of myths?_  Stepping over to the small bed, Severus gently pulled the book down so that he could see the page she was reading. Cinnamon eyes jumped to his in inquiry, but she allowed him to read the title.

"Hecate?" He asked simply. She nodded, stubbornly refusing to elaborate without a more specific question. He could see the glint of humor in her eyes. It was good to see that she had recovered from his insensitivity that morning. Not that he cared. "The Greek Goddess of Witchcraft?"

"Yes." She said simply. "And also crossroads, entrance-ways, fire, light, the Moon, magic, knowledge of herbs and poisonous plants, necromancy, and sorcery." Severus was sure that she was quoting the text from memory.

"Why the sudden interest in ancient deities?" He watched the girl's brow wrinkle in confusion.

"I'm not sure, exactly. It's hard to explain. I just feel like there's a connection." She smiled at her own nonsense and shrugged her shoulders. "I was hoping maybe…" then she trailed off as if she wasn't sure she should say.

"Finish your thought, Granger," he bit out impatiently. She answered immediately.

"I was hoping maybe I was Hecate and not Persephone." Then her cheeks reddened and she looked hurt, somehow. "No fair!" she cried. "I have to answer you!"  _Oh yeah._

"Fuck!" he swore, and her eyes grew wide in surprise at his harsh words. "Forgive me," he continued gracelessly. "I can hardly change the habits of a lifetime in a few short days." She nodded in acceptance of the apology despite his use of a tone that implied he didn't really mean it.

"That's alright." He was momentarily thrown off guard by her sincerity.

"In any case, I really don't see any resemblance to the Goddess of Spring." Her guilty look as she turned her eyes to the covers was enough to trigger a memory in his mind. She believed that  _he_  was Hades. She would only be Persephone because of her connection to  _him_.  _Oh._  "I'm not sure Hecate is the right one either, though," he rushed on. "Though I'm not sure why it matters." Suddenly this conversation felt very awkward. He cleared his throat. "There was actually something else I wanted to talk to you about." Granger set her book aside and sat up in the bed. It seemed so wrong that she would be in bed for this little talk. Conjuring a chair, Severus opted to sit beside the bed, rather than loom over her, or—Merlin forbid—sit on the mattress beside her.

"I have come up with a few ways to get around the rules of the enslavement." She did not respond, but waited for him to continue. "That is, I am hoping that they have the right effect. We will have to test it. And soon, because it is entirely possible that we will be called before the dark lord again, in the very near future. You must be ready."

"What did you have in mind, Professor?" He glanced up at her trusting eyes and felt a lump of nervousness at the sight of her lying in bed.

"Well, I was thinking that if I commanded you to only obey me under specific circumstances—I don't know what exactly—then perhaps you could only pretend to obey when the dark lord requests information. In that case, you would be able to feed him lies. Of course, we would be banking on the assumption that he would not feel the need to read your mind if you are readily answering his questions, anyway." Her eyes lit up in excitement and he raised an eyebrow. "Idea, Granger?"

"Yes! I was thinking, perhaps the condition could be that I only obey you if you are sneering when you voice your command." Severus blinked at that unexpected suggestion. He wasn't sure if he should be amused of offended. But his mixed emotions were quickly brushed aside when he realized the merit of the idea. It could work.

"I'll ignore the insult implied, Granger." He saw her try to protest and cut her off. "We will use it as a trial. Tomorrow, there is an Order meeting. When Albus comes to question you, I will order you to answer. Do not obey any command I give you tomorrow if I am not, as you say,  _sneering_." The girl looked properly chastised and excited all at the same time. He knew the prospect of finding a loophole in the chains binding her would have been very appealing to him as well, had he been placed in her position. That thought brought him back to the prophecy.  _Should I tell her about it?_  But Granger started to speak again, and the opportunity was past.

"Sir?" she began. "You mentioned that we had no way of knowing when the dark lord would call on us;  _if_  he would call me with you…"

"Yes," he agreed, gesturing for her to continue.

"Well… you said… at one point… that he would…  _expect_  certain things… That is… I mean… I was thinking that… well… it might be a bit suspicious if… I mean… "

"Oh, spit it out, Granger!" he growled before he realized that she would be forced to comply.

"Won't he think it's odd that I'm still a virgin?" Her hands clapped over her mouth and her entire face turned a delightful red as he found himself frozen to the chair.

"Forgive me," he said at last. She just leaned back against the pillows, letting her head fall back in humiliation. The movement forced her breasts outward and his eyes swept down the pale length of her neck to appreciate the pert points clear beneath the fabric. He shook his head. Was it the prospect of having sex with the girl that was kindling this sudden attraction to her?

* * *

Hermione could have died from mortification. The only thing easing her pain was the fact that he blamed himself for her boldness. "Actually, that was the next subject I had hoped to address," Snape said in a low, hesitant voice. She could see that this was making him just as uncomfortable as it was her. "I have just returned from Malfoy Manor. I think you remember the Malfoy residence? Well, Lucius invited me for a little chat tonight." His reference to Draco Malfoy's father as if he were an old comrade reminded Hermione of just how far away they really were from each other. Not only was he so much older, but his acquaintances were all Death Eaters. And she was going to be forced to have sex with him!

"He has made it painfully clear that I will not be able to keep you to myself for very long." Hermione bolted up in the bed, her eyes wide in horror.  _WHAT?!_  "Oh, no," he continued, "I don't mean that I will be forced to share you."  _WHAT?!_  "That much I am sure I can guarantee without jeopardizing my role there. But they will demand that I bring you to the revels; the lavish parties that Lucius likes to throw. Many horrible things happen at the revels, but you would only be humiliated."  _Oh dear Merlin._ "I am certain that minimal pain will be required to be convincing." Hermione thought she might be sick again. A sudden dizziness nearly overwhelmed her and she sank back into the pillows. Severus Snape clearly did not know how to be reassuring.

"When will that be?" she asked softly. He hesitated a little too long.

"I am not sure."

"But you have an idea," she accused. She saw him cringe.

"Soon. I am sure it will be soon. Also, it is likely that you will get no more warning than knowing that I am out of the house and suddenly being apparated elsewhere." He sighed and she suddenly noticed how very tired he looked. This was putting a lot of added stress on him, as well. "I think… it would be best… if we were to… to do it…" he cringed at the words even as he said them, but she nodded her understanding, "before you are called." She gulped down a sudden knot of emotion in her throat.

"I think you're right." He nodded, not quite looking at her. "When…" she trailed off. The question was clear enough.

"Soon," was all he said. They were silent for a tense moment before he continued. "I was thinking that you might be more comfortable here, rather than in my own room. At least you are familiar with this…" he was about to say 'bed,' she knew. She nodded vehemently so that he did not have to finish the thought.

"That would be preferable," she agreed. There was another moment of silence before their eyes met. So many questions and concerns seemed to hang in the air between them, but neither said a word. Then, Hermione felt a tremor of dread lash through her. "Now?" she blurted, interpreting his strange expression of apprehension as not knowing where to begin. He seemed to bolt away from her at that, his back pressed against the chair behind him.

"No. No, I-I don't think such haste is necessary. Perhaps… tomorrow?" Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest. They were discussing  _times_  now. It was actually going to  _happen_. She was going to sleep with Professor Severus Snape! Merlin, the knot in her throat was choking her and she knew her face was ablaze with color. And there was another sensation; a strange nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach, almost like anticipation.

"Sure," she said, nodding vehemently. Anything to make it  _not_  be today. And then, she started to wonder if tomorrow wasn't too soon, too. Perhaps they could move it to the next day, or a week from now.  _No,_ she told herself.  _The sooner the better. You can't prolong the inevitable forever._

"Fine," he said, rising from the chair. "Tomorrow it is. If there is nothing else you need, I should be going." She nodded, but found that she could not speak. "Oh, and Granger, do not tell  _anyone_  about  _any_ of this." It was clear from his tone that he knew he was giving her a command that she would be forced to follow, but he didn't care. Sweeping from the room, her professor was suddenly gone. And Hermione felt tears of confusion and fear burning rivers down her cheeks.

* * *

Tiptoeing up the stairs to the room she shared with Ginny, Hermione once again questioned the wisdom of her plan. It was awfully lonely down in the makeshift lab, and Hermione was feeling rather desperate for company. Honestly, she just needed someone who would support and comfort her. She needed a  _friend_.

When she pushed open the door to their bedroom, however, she was shocked to see a tangled mass of naked limbs upon Ginny's bed. For one long second she merely stood there in paralyzed horror. Then, shutting the door on reflex, she stopped herself just short of slamming it and ran down the stairs.  _What the hell!?_  Were Harry and Ginny having sex!?  _Merlin! Is this what happens when you lock up a bunch of frustrated witches and wizards!?_  Apparently.

She didn't stop until she reached the kitchen, collapsing in a chair and letting her head sink down on the table.  _I am so ready for this summer to be over!_

Hermione didn't realize she had fallen asleep until the sounds of someone else in the kitchen brought her back to the present. The chair beside her was scooted back and she could feel the warmth of someone's body close beside her. Suddenly, a hand was on her back, running soothing circles in the center. "Hermione?" Sirius's voice whispered and she could feel his hot breath on her ear. Her eyes popped open to see his concerned face not far from her own. "Are you alright?" he said. She sat up, deliberately forcing his hand away from her.  _What the hell is going on in this house!? I know it's not the full moon!_

"Sorry. I must have fallen asleep," she murmured, trying to stand. But his hand came to rest on her shoulder, effectively trapping her in the chair.

"You've been crying," he said gently. She looked up at him and saw concern in his eyes. He was just worried about her, after all.

"It's nothing," she said. "I've just had a rough week."

"I know you have," he consoled. "I know better than most how terrible a bunch the Death Eaters are. I spent twelve years locked away with them, after all." She smiled sadly. That was something she had forgotten to take into consideration. "And then, of course, there's the matter of my family." Hermione's eyes widened. "Ah, you are familiar with Bellatrix." She nodded. "But my own brother was also one of them. Believe me, I have seen how the dark arts can twist a person. It is cruel that you should have to face it alone at so tender an age." His hand was rubbing circles in her back again, but she allowed it. The contact was soothing in a way she hadn't realized she needed.

Tears were sliding down her cheeks again. She wished they would stop. By now, she would have thought that all the tears would be used up. And yet, they continued, snaking trails of hot salt down her cold face. She yearned for the comfort that Sirius was providing.

A hand came up to cup her face as his thumb wiped away a fresh tear. He smiled sadly into her eyes and allowed his hand to run through her tangled hair. The caress was gentle, affectionate. It calmed her and made her feel less like part of a plan and more like a human being. Then, his hand was trailing down her arm, warming her chilled skin; bringing life back into it. His forehead touched hers and she was vaguely aware of another hand on her knee as the first trailed back up her arm, his thumb running along the crease between her arm and her chest. Only then did this much needed comfort seem wrong. The tip of his nose brushed against hers and she opened her streaming eyes to see that his own were closed, his lips parted in heady concentration. He was moving closer.

"Am I interrupting?" Hermione and Sirius both jumped about a foot at the intrusion and looked up to see Severus Snape standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame as if he had been watching. His arms were folded across his chest and she could see the rage in his cold, black eyes. He was furious.

"Oh, go  _fuck_  yourself, Snivellus! You're not wanted here!" Snape stepped further into the room and Hermione jumped up to stand between the two men.

"Go to bed, Granger," Snape commanded. She obeyed instantly, compulsively, but he was unrepentant. Behind her, she could hear the angry sounds of quarreling and was certain that wands had already been drawn. Unable to stop the disaster from unfolding, Hermione slipped back into the small potions lab and curled up in the little bed.


	12. Chapter 12

Neither Snape nor Sirius made an appearance at breakfast the next morning. Hermione couldn't help but worry about what could have happened the night before after she had gone to bed. But a glowing Ginny Weasley was enough of a distraction as the pretty redhead plopped down beside her at the table.

"Morning, Hermione!" came the girl's too-enthusiastic greeting.

"Morning, Ginny," Hermione replied, not bothering to hide her curiosity. "What's got you in such a good mood?" She knew, of course, but she wasn't about to tell Ginny that.

"Oh,  _nothing_ …" Ginny sang, slanting her eyes in a way that communicated the exact opposite. When Harry arrived, Ginny barely said a word to him, ruffling his hair when he sat down beside her, but otherwise giving nothing away. Harry, himself, looked rather embarrassed in a pleased sort of way. He clearly did not know how to act. Then Ron came in and started inhaling his breakfast, and the rest of the foursome turned back to their own plates.

When Bill and Fleur came into the kitchen, Fleur was wearing a nightgown that was practically transparent. Ginny's glare and Ron's gaping, food-stuffed mouth were so at odds with each other that Hermione almost laughed. Almost. It wasn't long before Ginny left the now crowded kitchen, and Hermione went to follow after her.

"Alright, Ginny," Hermione teased when they were alone in their shared bedroom. "What's going on?" Ginny gave the older witch a mischievous smile before leaning toward her conspiratorially.

"Well, it's been a few days now, but I didn't want to say anything because I know you've been having a rough time, but…"

" _But?_ "

"But Harry and I are sleeping together! And  _oh_ , Hermione, it's  _so_  good. So much better than it was with Dean. I think it's because we have so much chemistry, you know? And we've both wanted it for so long. Actually, to be honest, I think the reason it's so much better with Harry is that we really love each other. I mean it's not like he's more experienced than Dean was. Ah! I just feel so  _liberated!_ "

"I'm really happy for you, Gin," Hermione heard herself respond. She knew it was a cookie-cutter response, but it was hard for her to voice the way she really felt at the moment. Yes, she was happy that Ginny and Harry had finally found something so perfect together. And yet, at the same time, all she could think about was the night ahead of her, and the man who would be waiting for her.  _He_ certainly didn't love  _her._  A blush tinged her cheeks and she felt a million questions rising up inside of her. "Was it awkward?" she asked, "The first time?"

"Nope, not at all. We were both really ready for it, I think. And then, it just sort of happened. Don't worry, Hermione, we're being very safe," she hurried to assure her friend.

"How? What are you using?"

"Contraceptive potions. They're really easy to come by, actually."

"Here?!"

"Well, no. But I've been planning for this for a while. It only takes one potion a month, so I'm stocked for a while." Hermione had not even thought about contraception. She hoped Snape had a plan for that. Ginny might be a tad suspicious if she were to ask for a vial. There were other questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn't find an easy way to do so.

"So, you've been planning for this, have you? What else have you been doing to prepare?"

"Oh, all sorts of things! Reading, waxing, shopping. Do you want to see the lingerie I bought?" Ginny jumped up excitedly to find her lingerie and Hermione tried to backtrack.

"Waxing?" Ginny pulled out some kind of crimson lace that made Hermione blush. "You wore  _that?_ "

"Do you like it? I haven't worn it yet. I'm saving it for a special occasion. See, it's Gryffindor red!" Hermione cleared her throat.

"So, and you  _waxed_ …"

"Oh, of  _course!_  Had to tame the flames, if you know what I mean. No one wants to put up with a bunch of hair down there." Hermione felt her cheeks growing hot.  _Is that what Snape will think?_

"I've never done it," she admitted.

"It's really easy and a lot easier than shaving. There's a potion and you just spread it over the hair you want to come off before you jump in the shower. I like to leave a little patch of  _fire_ because I like the way it looks."

"Fire?"

"Well yeah, silly! I'm a redhead, after all."  _Oh._  "Would you like to try it? I have some if you want it. And it lasts for months so I won't need any more any time soon."

"Yeah, sure." Hermione's heart was pounding at the thought of  _preparing_  for tonight, but she didn't want him to be  _disgusted_  with her, either. "So… why is it called waxing?" The redhead paused for a moment.

"I have no idea."

* * *

Severus sat in the back, in his usual spot, during the Order meeting. Albus had decided not to tell the rest of the members the details of Granger's escape. Nor did he think it wise to share the contents of the prophecy with his trusted friends. Given that gaping hole in recent events, it didn't take their proud leader very long to run out of news to fill them all in on. When he finally dismissed the rest of the members, Severus remained behind. He watched Albus usher the group out the door and then beckon toward the stairs. Granger had been seated there with one of her damnable books since before the meeting was called to order.

The girl did not quite meet his eyes upon entering the study and he sneered when she placed herself in a chair at the opposite end of the room from him.  _A lot of good that will do you, Granger._  Albus seemed cheerfully unaware of the mounting tension in the room as he sat equidistance from the other two.

"Well, now," he began. "Miss Granger, I trust you understand the purpose of this meeting?" The girl nodded, not looking up from the hands clasped in her lap. "I did not want to force you to relive such a horrible memory so soon after the fact, but any information could be important to our cause." She nodded again, this time looking up at the Headmaster bravely. It was clear to Severus that she was trying very hard not to look in his direction.

"Tell him your account, Granger," Severus commanded, making sure not to sneer as he said the words. It was quite an effort in his current mood. The girl opened her mouth to speak, then blinked in realization. The excitement was enough to allow her a glance in Severus's direction and she smiled beautifully. He tried not to notice how appealing that was. Before she could even speak, however, Albus interrupted.

"Actually, I would prefer to  _see_  the memory, if Miss Granger doesn't mind." Severus chilled her radiant smile with a vicious sneer as he changed his request.

"Allow the Headmaster to  _see_  the memory, Granger." Immediately, the girl's head swung around to face Albus. Stunned, the old man hesitated only a moment before slipping into her mind. Severus watched the horror and pain of the memory spread across her pretty features and immediately regretted forcing her to relive it. He should have thought to send for a pensieve.

When the Headmaster finally withdrew from the girl's mind, he did not give her another glance. In a flurry of magenta robes and flowing beard, he was pacing the length of the small chamber. Severus alone seemed to notice the broken expression of the young Miss Granger, sitting beside the fireplace with tear tracks down her cheeks. She lifted her chin bravely, but he could see that the color was gone from her face, leaving only an empty white. She looked very much as she had last night. With  _him._ Severus felt cold hatred rising inside of him at the thought of that mongrel's hands all over the girl. He had been about to kiss her, and she was going to let him. Was she so repulsed by the idea of sleeping with him that she was turning to other men for comfort?

And how could she so easily trust a man like Sirius Black, but continue to have doubts about himself?

"You did well to rescue her, Severus. Apparently dear Bellatrix was feeling particularly feisty that day."

"Yes, Albus, and this solution is so much  _better_  for everyone," he replied angrily.

"Have you found any ways around the magic of the curse?" Albus asked, paying no attention to his mood.

"That is what we are endeavoring to discover at this very moment," he responded. "Miss Granger, tell Professor Dumbledore what you've done today." The girl opened her mouth to respond, but was unable to form the words. Her jaw slammed shut. Then, he allowed a horrible sneer to spread across his face. "Fine. Then tell the Headmaster what you did  _last_   _night."_ Granger was immediately forced to answer.

"I was reading about Hecate when Professor Snape came in. We discussed plans for evading the effects of the curse and then we talked about…"

" _After_ that, Granger!"

"Then I snuck upstairs and caught Harry and Ginny in bed." Granger's hands came up to cover her mouth in horror, but she continued to speak. "Then I fell asleep at the kitchen table and Sirius came to comfort me, but then I think he was going to do more and Professor Snape came in and ordered me to leave so he could fight Sirius. I tried to stop them, but I had to obey, so I went to bed instead." Tears were streaming from her eyes, but Severus felt a perverse sense of satisfaction.  _That will teach her._

"Severus, how many times have I told you not to fight with Sirius?" the old man scolded. "Now then, tell me about these ideas of yours."

* * *

 _That bastard!_ Hermione repeated in her mind for the umpteenth time as she stripped in the small bathroom.  _How could he do that to me? That selfish, controlling, evil bastard!_  Setting a towel on the edge of the tub, she sat on it and poured a liberal amount of the waxing potion into her hand.  _This is completely ridiculous. The man_ hates _me and here I am bloody_ primping _for him! Oh dear Merlin, where do I put this stuff? Bloody hell! I should have asked her more about it. I guess between my legs. That's the most important part, after all. And maybe around the edges up here. How big of a patch do I leave? Fuck! This shouldn't be so difficult. I'll just outline where I want it to be… Is that too far left? Oh like he'll even fucking care! And what if he does care? He can sod off! Why should I want him to enjoy this? I'm bloody well not going to. Oh, now the right doesn't look smooth. Fuck! When this is all done I'm going to give that man a piece of my mind. To think I'm going through all of this for that bastard! The way he doesn't even feel guilty using the control he has over me TO HARM ME! Bastard. Oh hell, what if he uses that power to make me do things to him?_  Hermione shivered at the thought. And then, it made her unaccountably angrier with her Potions Professor.  _Well he can rot in sodding Hades for all I care!_

* * *

When Hermione stepped out of the shower, she rubbed a clear spot on the mirror and bravely stared at her naked reflection.  _This is what he is going to see. What will he think? Well, I'm not as scrawny as I used to be, but I certainly don't hold a candle to Fleur or Ginny. Would he rather sleep with one of them? No! Hermione Granger, don't you dare think about things like that! Fuck him, anyway. He's stuck with me, so it's too damn bad if he does. Oh, but I hope he doesn't._

Hermione brought her hands up to cup her little breasts.  _Will he want to touch them? Will he think they're insufficient?_ She turned around to inspect her backside.  _I don't look half bad from the back, though. Good thing I've got a bit of a bum now. And hips, too. I don't remember having hips._ She ran her hands along the smooth plane of her stomach, down to fondle the little patch of brown curls she had left at the junction of her legs.  _Will he think I've tried too hard?_

* * *

That night at dinner Hermione was beginning to get more and more nervous. She never knew what to expect of the man studiously avoiding her gaze at the far end of the table. And yet, very soon, he would be fucking her.  _You shouldn't think of it like that!_  A strange knot of nervous excitement was building in her stomach. She tried to rationalize the little teensy weensy part of her that was kind of sort of looking forward to this as being a product of her constant desire to learn new things. It was the only thing that made sense, after all.

"So, Harry," Mrs. Weasley was saying, "Have you been having a nice summer, dear?" Hermione watched Harry's cheeks turn pink as he responded that he had indeed been having a nice summer. Ron gave a noncommittal grunt in response to the same question directed at him. Mrs. Weasley went no further, however, seeming to realize where it would eventually lead. And everyone knew that Hermione Granger was having a terrible summer. "Tonks dear, would you pass the potatoes?"

As the currently-blue-haired young woman reached over her own plate for the potato dish, she knocked over her glass of pumpkin juice, spilling it all over Remus's lap. The metamorphmagus's entire head turned pink in embarrassment as she grabbed the closest dish towel and began dabbing at the front of his trousers. Those surrounding the pair were occupied trying to stop the flow of the sweet liquid across the wooden table while Sirius obliged Mrs. Weasley by handing her the potatoes. But Hermione noticed the moment that Tonks realized what she was doing and jerked her head up to meet Remus's surprised gaze. The two were locked in a heated stare, their faces flushed and Tonks's lips quirked up. After a moment, they turned away from each other and resumed eating, but their blushes remained and Hermione was pretty sure there was something going on under the table.

The brief pandemonium was calming down when Hermione glanced back toward Professor Snape. His thoughtful eyes were watching her with an unreadable expression. Their eyes locked across the distance, but she was not sure what he was trying to communicate to her. Perhaps it was not communication at all. Suddenly, he was turned away from her again as if she could have imagined the whole thing.

Professor Snape left the kitchen as pudding was being served and Hermione wasn't sure if she was supposed to follow or not. Warring with herself, she decided that she was damn well going to enjoy her pudding before following the bastard anywhere. But it was hard to enjoy the pudding with so many thoughts of what was to come running through her mind. Finally, she excused herself and headed slowly to the little makeshift potions lab.

But the dark professor was not waiting for her in the small bedroom. She hesitated before deciding to wait for him there. After all, she could read a book, calm her nerves, and not appear to be waiting for him. When she caught sight of herself in the mirror behind the cauldron of Wolfsbane, however, she stopped.  _Muggle jeans and a t-shirt? It's not exactly sexy. Not that I was planning to wear anything like Ginny's lingerie. But something like a nightgown—like the one Fleur was wearing this morning—that might work._ Hermione withdrew her wand. She was over the age, but it still felt dangerously naughty using her wand during the summer months. For that reason, she had refrained from using it until now. But this occasion certainly called for a bit of magic. Picturing a similar nightgown in her mind, Hermione was soon enveloped in pleated folds of chiffon drifting down to her knees from spaghetti straps that left her shoulders bare. _I look like a giant poofball._ Hesitantly, Hermione removed a few of the layers of the sheer material until she got the desired effect. The garment was not exactly sheer, but her silhouette was discernible through the material. It was subtle and sexy, she decided, and made her look like a Greek Goddess.

Suddenly, the door opened, and in came Professor Snape. Hermione felt a hot rush of terror at his sudden presence. Looming over her tiny form, her professor was a lot larger than she remembered. As he seemed to fill up the entire room with his overbearing presence, she felt more like Persephone than she ever had.  _Oh Merlin, I'm not ready for this!_  How the goddess managed not to die from sheer terror when Hades dragged her down to the Underworld Hermione would never understand. She could only pray that  _she_  was that brave.

The girl was waiting for him when he entered the small room. He had expected this, but had thought she would be stubbornly pretending to read a book until he came in. He had  _not_ expected to find her wrapped in a delicious, see-through nightgown. The pure white of the garment made her skin seem to glow with the faint blush now filling her cheeks. And with her hair down and in disarray she looked like something from a dream.  _You don't deserve her. And besides, she wants Black. Foolish girl!_

Hermione watched as her professor slipped off his outer robes and began to unbutton the long frock coat that he always wore. She froze. Had anyone ever seen the professor without that coat? It all seemed even more real now, and more intimate, as she watched him drape the dark garment over a chair. Even without his billowing, black robes, her professor was intimidating. His tall frame made her feel tiny and she could see a pronounced bulge in the front of his trousers.  _He's already aroused!_  Hermione wasn't sure if she should be encouraged or disgusted.  _He's looking forward to this!_  Then, her professor sat on the bed and she felt her stomach flip with nervousness and something akin to excitement. But he was only pulling off his heavy boots.

She was watching him expectantly; the terror all too clear in those cinnamon eyes. And  _he_ was the cause. Recently he had begun to think of the girl as pretty and even a bit alluring. But here, standing before him like the vision of an angel, she was probably the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. With that thought he felt a rush of guilty feelings for Lily, but brushed them away. Lily had indeed been beautiful, in a haughty way. But the sincerity and purity emanating from Granger made her all the more desirable.  _Oh Merlin, I can't do this!_

 _Sincerity and purity my arse! The little bitch was practically throwing herself at the mongrel pup, or have you forgotten that? She doesn't want you!_ "Well, Miss Granger, are you planning to  _stand there_  all night?" he bit out. She flinched, but remained where she was.

"What should I do, Professor?" Severus cringed at her use of his title.

"First, you should not call me 'Professor.' At least not tonight." He watched the girl blush so forcefully that it spread down her pretty neck to disappear at the low neckline of her nightgown. Severus felt himself throb with need. Merlin, how he wanted to make slow love to her, to kiss her and caress her. But that was not what this was. She did not want him, and would not welcome his touch. This was just a means to an end; something they had to do for the Greater Cause. But  _Merlin_ , he wanted her. "Come here," he commanded. She stayed frozen to the spot.

"Sorry, prof—sorry. You ordered me not to obey any command…"

"Fuck! This stupid curse, I swear I'm going to find the man who invented it and…" Severus took a calming breath. "Alright, Miss Granger, for tonight, do not interpret any of my commands as commands. You may decide whether or not to do any of them, yourself." She nodded happily and went to sit beside him on the mattress. The heat of her small body touched his skin and he suddenly felt nervous.  _What the hell do I do now?_

Hermione felt very small and vulnerable next to her strong professor. She wanted to be angry with him, but her characteristic need for approval from those she respected won out. All she cared about right now was not disappointing him. Even if she was painfully frightened of the act itself, she trusted the man beside her to know what to do and to guide her through it. "Perhaps you should lie down, Miss Granger," he said softly, with only the tiniest bit of irritation clear in his voice. Immediately a rush of embarrassment shot through her and she hurried to climb back onto the bed.

Severus stood and looked down at the girl blushing in her bed. She was stretched out so rigidly that he thought she might crack if he touched her the wrong way. Her cheeks were an attractive shade of pink and her cinnamon eyes were following his every move. Slowly, Severus crawled onto the bed until he was positioned over her. He swallowed nervously, seeing the fear in her eyes as well, but the ache in his groin far overrode any embarrassment he felt at this point.  _Should I kiss her? No. That would be gratuitous and an invasion of her person. Just because_ you _want to does not mean that_ she _does._

With her professor crouched over her, Hermione felt a thrill of nervous energy. A pulsing heat between her legs had started up at some point and now felt like full blown fire.  _This is really going to happen!_  And suddenly, she realized that she actually  _wanted_  it to happen. When Snape began to nudge her legs apart with his knee, she complied readily. He pushed the nightgown up her thighs until it was just covering her soft panties. Then, he was undoing the front of his trousers. The pulsing between her legs grew insistent at that and she almost moaned aloud. But he would think that she was very foolish. And he would tell her that this was strictly business. So she remained silent.

 _Oh Merlin, this is going to be awful. She is going to scream and I am going to come and she will hate me forever. Fuck!_  "I just want to reiterate the fact that I don't want to do this any more than you do," he found himself saying. After all, he was going to heartily enjoy it and she would never forgive him for that when all she would get out of the experience was pain. "But it has to be done." He saw the girl nod and her eyes turned up to the ceiling as he withdrew his aching member from his trousers.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione could see her professor leaning down toward her. She flinched as something prodded her panties and her professor cursed under his breath. With a wave of his hand, her panties were gone and she could feel the cool air of the room around them. Gulping down her nervousness, she felt her face burn hot from the shame of being so exposed before him. Then, she felt something soft and warm rubbing between the folds of her core.

At the sensation of her soft, smooth skin against the head of his aching cock, Severus almost groaned with pleasure. He had not expected her to be so well groomed, as if she had  _prepared_ for this.  _Preposterous!_  He inched inside of her until he came up against the boundary of her virginity. "This is going to hurt, but it will get better," he told her in what he hoped was a reassuring tone.

The concern in her professor's voice was surprising and she looked up to catch his eye as he lightly pushed against her. The pain shot through her immediately and she cried out as he pushed against her again, unrelenting.  _No! He's doing it wrong! He's breaking me!_  "Relax, Miss Granger. It will be easier if you just relax." Hermione closed her eyes and tried to relax her muscles, thinking of the soft concern he seemed to feel for her. Thinking of how proud he would be of her if she was brave for this. She bit her lip and thought of the Greater Cause.

With one hard thrust, Snape ripped into her. She muffled her scream against a hand and tasted blood from the lip she had been biting. A tear slid down her cheek when she opened her eyes to see her professor hunched over her, frozen, his inky hair falling to caress her breasts.

Severus had never felt anything so amazing. She was so tight and surprisingly wet, but he knew that she was in terrible pain. With that in mind, he forced himself not to move, going against every instinct inside of him which begged him to thrust into her again and again until he found his own release. Just as he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a little hand came up to brush the dark hair from his face. The contact was so surprising that Severus pressed inside of her again as their eyes met. Her head fell back against the pillow and he began to slowly, carefully move inside of her. It was like nothing he had ever felt, but he kept himself under control. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her any more.

Hermione closed her eyes. The pain was easing, but it was still present as her professor moved against her. Somewhere, a thrill of excitement went through her at the prospect of what was happening.  _Sex._  She couldn't say that this was exactly how she had pictured it, but she couldn't put a finger on what was different. All she knew was that it excited her in a very odd way that her professor was enjoying her body. And it kind of felt good. She opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. Their eyes met and that contact while he pressed inside of her made a funny tension start to build between her legs.

Her cinnamon eyes met his and he was surprised to see that she was starting to enjoy this. For his part, this slow pace was driving him insane. Their eyes were locked and he began to feel uncomfortable being so intimately connected to her, so he broke the connection by closing his.

Hermione continued to watch Snape, his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted, as he moved against her. She became aware of the fact that he was holding back. Each thrust, while slow, was deep and lingering. And his bony hips were starting to hurt her thighs. Hermione pulled her thighs up past his hips and his eyes snapped open as he growled low in his throat. Lust seemed to emanate from the dark depths of his inky eyes and she wondered for a moment if she had done something wrong. Then, his hand came up to twist in her hair and he began to move faster against her.

Her subtle change in their position allowed him to go deeper, filling her to the hilt and Severus's control snapped. Reaching into her thick hair, he pounded into her, imagining the way her breasts would feel if he could touch them. Her own eyes clouded with apparent lust and he quickened the pace, approaching climax as her eyes locked onto his. A tiny, almost secret smile twisted those sultry lips and he burst inside of her, groaning in agonized pleasure as he rocked against her.

Hermione watched in amazement as her professor came above her. His features twisted in an expression of agony and he groaned as he pressed hard against her. She felt his hot seed spill inside of her and felt remarkably on edge, as if she could just about go over the edge with him. A sudden ball of emotion caught in her throat as tears sprang inexplicably from her eyes. His forehead came down to her own as he came down from his orgasm and Hermione was reminded of Sirius the night before. Except, with Snape there was something so sincere and vulnerable about the gesture that she was not repulsed at all. Rather, she found the she wanted to draw him down to her and kiss him on the mouth, but it was too late. He pulled away from her and went about dressing.

Suddenly Hermione felt cold.

Suddenly, it really was all business.

And then, Snape reached into the pocket of his coat and set a vial on the table beside her.  _Contraceptive._

Without another word, Snape pulled open the door to their little room. "Ah, Severus," she heard Remus say. Before he could finish his train of thought, the door was closed. And Hermione was alone.

A crushing, sinking feeling fell over her as she sat up in the bed and wrapped her arms around her knees. How could he act so casually about that?! She felt as if she had given him something and he had taken it and run. Or worse, he had torn it up. And run. Now she was alone in twisted despair as he went about his business, unaffected. Tears were leaking from behind her eyes like rivers of the dark water leading to Hades. And she was being drawn down into its depths with nothing but contempt and sorrow for company.

As Hermione curled into a ball and sobbed into her pillows, Severus was kicking the door to his bedroom, his forehead pressed against it. He had humiliated himself. He had shown vulnerability. He had, for one pathetic moment, allowed her to see how much he needed her.  _Fuck!_  It was completely ridiculous. How could he  _need_  such an insufferable, annoying,  _young_ , beautiful…  _FUCK._ He was well and truly fucked, to be sure. For 38 years he had never depended on anyone, and the one other time he had begun to allow such vulnerability, how had he been rewarded? With a chain of events that led to Lily's death and his own permanent Hell as a spy for two unscrupulous masters.  _Fuck!_ How could he allow himself to give her that kind of power?!

And then, he remembered the sight of her broken body, lying in bed beneath him, crying as he came down from the most wonderful sensation he'd ever felt. And blood between her legs, where he had been.  _My fault._  He remembered the beautiful angel who had been waiting for him, her radiant smile earlier that day, the sweet expression she wore as she watched Remus and Tonks at the dinner table.  _Broken._

_Because of me._


	13. Chapter 13

She was surrounded on all sides by a field of flowers that stretched past the horizons, as if the entire world was made of this material. In a full circle she could see the ends of the Earth as she danced upon the sacred ground. The cold, wet dirt felt wonderful beneath her bare feet and the stems of the flowers tickled the skin of her bare legs. A long, white nightgown caressed her body with the touch of a lover as she twirled beneath a cloudless sky.

Suddenly, the Earth began to rumble and shake, knocking her to the ground. And the cold soil around her began to shift as a deep crag opened up beneath her. She should have fallen, but somehow she was standing to the side of the bottomless pit. Horrified, she stared down into the depths, mesmerized by the terror of this atrocity. Out of the darkness sprang the head of a giant snake and she screamed as it attempted to devour her. Turning to run, she found that she was unable to move her leaden legs, and in an instant, she had been consumed.

And she was falling. Falling, down through the snake, to the deepest pit of Hell. And she landed hard against the cold, dry rocks of the Underworld. The darkness surrounded her as completely as the field of flowers had, and she had nowhere to run. Just then, a figure stepped from the shadow; a figure draped entirely in black. And she knew that he was Hades, come to make her his own. And he was more terrifying than the snake. Leaning down, he captured her wrist and dragged her into a reluctant embrace. Tight against his overwhelming frame, Hermione looked up into the eyes of her captor. Straight into the bottomless depths of inky black eyes. Severus Snape.

Screaming, Hermione bolted up in the bed, sweating profusely from the vivid nightmare. And even as she escaped from the horrors of Hades, she found herself in a tiny potions lab, and reality began to crash down on top of her. It was worse than Hades. Curling up into a ball, she wept into the pillow, and tried to go back to sleep.

* * *

Severus had been holed up in his room all day, avoiding  _her._  He had skipped breakfast and lunch just because he didn't want to see her. He  _couldn't_  see her. He didn't know what to say to her.  _Fuck! I should never have given her so much power over me!_

But now he was rather hungry, and extremely bored.  _I should have foreseen this when I allowed her to sleep in my lab._  So, taking in a fortifying breath, he slipped from his self-imposed prison and headed quickly down the stairs to the basement kitchen. In his flight, he very nearly tripped over a giant, orange furball of a cat that he did not recognize. Cursing, he tried to pass the cat, who insisted on remaining in his path. But the orange beast had other plans, and moved under his foot as he was about to step down. Severus was forced to grab onto the railing to keep from crushing the pest and breaking his own neck in the process.

"Stupid animal!" he hissed. But the cat paid him no heed. Instead, it went to stand in front of a door, clearly begging entrance. And Severus saw that it was  _her_  door. "Is that what you want?" he asked the orange menace. The cat mewed an insistent response and Severus reached for the doorknob. Inexplicably, his heart began to pound rather painfully in his chest, and he hesitated. But the glaring eyes of the ginger cat challenged him to continue. Cracking the door just wide enough for the feline furball, Severus waited for the thing to enter before closing the door once more. For a moment, he just stood there, reliving memories of the night before, and cringing at his own behavior.  _She will never forgive me._

* * *

Hermione's day passed in a blur of restlessness, in and out of sleep. Dreams plagued her mind; nonsense dreams involving her friends; anxious dreams involving her enemies. But they all seemed to twist into bits and pieces that no longer fit together as her consciousness only knew the ache in her body and the sweat coating her skin. Had she cared at all about anything, she would have wanted a bath.

Each time that she woke, she pushed away that connection to the real world, forcing herself back into slumber. At least there, the terrors were imagined, and she did not have to deal with them. She had never felt more useless. After all, what they had done the night before was really only necessary because she hadn't died. And yet, what good was she to the world now, if all she was good for was…  _that. Everything_  had been taken from her now. She was worthless. With that in mind, she no longer saw any benefit to being awake, so she merely remained asleep.

At some point, the fluffy warmth of her familiar appeared by her side. And she held him to her. She did not know how Crooks had gotten into the room, and she did not care. He was here now. And his comfort was much appreciated.

It was not enough to draw her from the bed, however. She stayed there, allowing herself to fall apart into the realm of dreams and soaking the bedclothes with tears and with sweat. It was her hunger that finally forced her body awake, but she refused to cave to such base inclinations. Eating meant returning to her life. Eating meant dealing with happy people, which she just couldn't do right now. But most of all, eating meant dealing with  _him._

* * *

On the second day, Severus braved the possibility of running into Granger and went down to breakfast. It was, however, a huge relief to find that she wasn't there. He sat down to a plate of Molly's cooking only long enough to eat, but it was long enough to worry him. When Granger did not appear, Molly asked the group at large if anyone had seen her, to which they all answered that they hadn't. In fact, upon reflection, none of them could remember seeing her the day before, either. Severus curtailed the rising guilt inside of him, telling himself that she was just being melodramatic. These were the sorts of stunts that teenage girls pulled all the time. And anyway, there was nothing  _he_  could do about it.

But over the course of the day, Severus remained out in the house, waiting for a glimpse of the girl. Just to assure himself that she was alright. But she never came. He even brought the book he was reading into the Entrance Hall and paced in front of the stairs, in order to watch her door. But she did not leave the little room. Long past lunchtime, Severus could bare the anxiety no more. Hiding his concern behind a sneer of impatience, he sought out the young Miss Weasley.

She was curled up on a couch in the study, watching her brother destroy Potter in a game of chess. "Miss Weasley," he growled in his most dangerous tone, "A word." Then he swept from the room, waiting impatiently in the hall beyond for the girl to follow after him. She complied readily, but he noticed the paleness of her complexion and the wideness of her eyes; telltale signs of the dread with which Severus was very familiar. "Your  _friend_ ," he seethed, "has taken to moping in my potions lab. It's rather inconvenient for me, as I have brewing to accomplish." And it was true. Work had to be done on the Wolfsbane  _tonight_ or the batch would be ruined this month. "See to it that she is reinstalled in  _her own_  bedroom."

He saw the girl's worried expression as she nodded distractedly. "Where is your potions lab, Professor?" Severus hesitated before leading her to the very door he had been watching for the entire day.

"I don't have time for teenage dramatics. I'm supposed to be on holiday," he growled before sweeping back down the stairs. He could not be present for this, he knew. And yet, he found himself waiting, watching as the young redhead knocked on the door, then slowly opened it and slipped inside. Once again, Severus found himself staring at the closed door for a painful length of time. Worrying.

* * *

"Hermione?" came a soft voice. Hermione groaned. It was the voice of reality, come to force her out of hiding. The mattress dipped behind her and the soft pressure of a hand came to rest on her upper arm. "Hermione, are you alright?" she breathed. Hermione did not answer. She was busy focusing all of her attention on remaining at least partway asleep. "Hermione, we're really worried about you. Do you want to talk about it?" At that, all delusions of unconsciousness fled and she found herself weeping into the pillows. Even if she  _wanted_  to talk about it, she was physically incapable of doing so.  _Snape_  had seen to that. "Hermione, please. This isn't healthy. Come back and stay in the room with me. You don't need to be alone right now." She pulled the blanket over her head to emphasize that that was all she wanted. To be alone. "Come on, Hermione. You'll see. It'll be much better up there with me. And besides, I think Snape wants his lab back." An anger she had not realized lay dormant inside of her suddenly burst with a painful throb.

"Well he can go bugger himself!" she shouted before turning her face into the pillows. The other girl was clearly taken aback, but she persisted bravely.

"Hermione, what's gotten into you? You've never disrespected a teacher before!" Hermione was silent. There was nothing she could say. Although, she really  _wanted_ to retort that that particular disrespectful teacher was  _exactly_  what had  _gotten into_  her. "Come on, don't make me call for reinforcements." Hermione stiffened. The last thing she needed was for everyone in the whole damn house to know what was going on. Groaning into the pillow, she finally relented.

Her legs were wobbly and weak when she stood up and sweat was drenching the nearly transparent nightgown, but she didn't care. She couldn't feel any emotion. Because if she felt even the tiniest bit, she would have to feel it all.

* * *

Finally, the door opened and Severus hid himself from view. But he caught a glimpse of her weakened frame beneath the sheer material of that damnable nightgown; the one she wore when she came to him in dreams as an angel of redemption. Severus pressed his forehead against the doorframe.  _I am to blame._

* * *

Hermione stepped out of the steaming shower feeling remarkably better. Her head still pounded with a heavy ache and she felt weak everywhere, but she was awake. And awake wasn't as bad as she had expected it to be. Ginny had forced her into the shower on their way up the stairs, handing her a change of clothes through the door. It was not lost on the older witch that her friend had chosen the happiest colors packed in her small suitcase.

As Hermione brushed her teeth, another load seemed to lift from her shoulders. It was as if every little ritual brought back a bit of her humanity, and washed away more of  _him._  When she finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in a light orange t-shirt and jean shorts, she felt loads better. Ginny was waiting for her in their bedroom with a cup of tea and a steaming plate of food. At first, the older girl didn't have much appetite for the offerings. But Ginny was insistent, and she ended up gobbling down everything on the plate.

"I brought your books up for you," Ginny said. Hermione cringed. She had been avoiding those books. The Mythology text reminded her too much of her horrible dreams, while Snape's Incantation book reminded her too much of her horrible professor. Ginny seemed to catch her reluctance to accept them and was understandably suspicious. "I don't think I've ever seen you less excited about a book," she teased. "What if I go get you something new to read?" Hermione sighed.

"It doesn't matter, Ginny. These are fine." She actually had no intentions of reading these books at the moment, but the other girl's kindness was beginning to wear her down. If she wasn't careful, she'd want the girl to comfort her as well. But Ginny returned later with a stack of books for her friend to choose from, and Hermione felt the threat of fresh tears behind her eyes.  _No. You cannot give in. If you give in, you will be lost again._  Instead, Hermione thanked her friend and decided to immerse herself once again in the written word.

"I didn't know what you'd want to read, so I just picked some random ones. It was hard enough finding anything that didn't deal with the dark arts." Ginny laughed, but Hermione only felt a painful clenching in her heart. At the moment, it seemed as if  _everything_  reminded her of  _him._

All she had wanted was his approval…

Turning her eyes to the stack of books, Hermione tried to focus on the titles. A couple of them were books she had already read and several were works of fiction, but the few that remained looked promising enough. Amidst the titles of interest, one particular seemed to stand out. Perhaps it was because the tome was red, as opposed to black or blue or green. Perhaps it was the gold filigree of the words along the spine. Or, perhaps it was the title:  _Alchemy and the Pursuit of the Philosopher's Stone._  Seized by the familiar tingle of excitement that new books always inspired within her, Hermione pulled the red book from the pile, and cracked its age-worn spine across her lap.

" _The ultimate goal in Alchemy is to produce the Philosopher's Stone. For centuries, wizards and muggles alike have attempted to create it, but only one has been successful: Nicolas Flemmel. The function of the Philosopher's Stone is threefold: transform base metals into gold, produce the Elixir of Life (AKA Panacea, named for the Greek goddess of Universal Remedy), and create a universal solvent capable of dissolving any compound back to its elemental state. These three goals, seemingly at odds, apply the same concept in three different ways._

" _At the beginning of the world, there was only Prima Materia; a mixture of all of the elements; Chaos."_  Hermione's stomach did a flip at the appearance of that familiar theme and she sat up straighter in the bed, pouring her concentration into the pages of the book. " _The fundamental goal of Alchemy is purification; the antithesis of chaos. The purest metal is gold. The purest form of being is immortal. And the purest form of any element is found when it is separated out of a mixture."_  The text began to describe the basic elements and the Seven Classical Metals, but Hermione was only interested in the Philosopher's Stone. Flipping to the chapter on the theory behind creating it, she buried her nose once again in the text.

" _An attempt to create the Philosopher's Stone is known as a Magnum Opus (Great Work). The four stages are referred to in terms of color. The first stage, Nigredo (black) is putrefaction or decomposition, a darkening of the matter before it can be purified; spiritual death. This is often identified as Chaos and associated with Prima Materia and water. Noted Alchemist Paracelsus believed that 'The light of the soul, by the will of the Triune God, made all earthly things appear from the primal Chaos.'"_

Hermione recognized Paracelsus as being the name of a bust placed near Gryffindor Tower at Hogwarts.  _So, the light of the soul is the antithesis of Chaos?_   _Or the light of the soul is the Philosopher's Stone?_

" _Muggle Psychologists have adopted the term 'Nigredo' to describe the confrontation of the darkness in one's soul. The second stage of the Magnum Opus is Albedo (white) by which the elements are purified; the impurities washed away. This step refers to the redemption of the soul's untainted and receptive original state."_

Hermione stared down at the words on the page for a long minute. This was what she wanted more than anything else in the world; to be pure again.

" _The third step is known as Citrinitas (yellow). This is the transmutation into gold of the elemental silver. As silver and the moon are reflective of the soul, gold is the dawning of Solar Light from within._

" _The final stage of the Magnum Opus has only been successfully achieved once. It is known as Rubedo (Red) and is the psychological equivalent of Self-Actualization by which one has attained Wholeness within himself."_

Hermione leaned her head back against the wall behind her, deep in thought.  _So, Chaos is the opposite of Purity._  She pinched the bridge of her nose in concentration.  _And the matter must be blackened before it can be purified?_  Hermione considered this. Against her better judgment, she felt a little bubble of hope that she could apply this concept to herself. Turning back to the yellowed pages, Hermione decided to return to the beginning and read the book all the way through.

Hours later, Hermione set the book aside, sighing deeply. If nothing else, in the face of these deep thoughts, her own personal problems seemed so tiny. She had been foolish, she realized. There was a war going on. People were dying. People were being  _born_.  _Life_  was happening. And she was sulking because her snarky professor hadn't cuddled with her after taking her virginity to ensure her continued survival. It was with this in mind, when dinner came around, that Hermione decided to leave the safe confines of her bedroom and face the fears that awaited her beyond.


	14. Chapter 14

Professor Snape never came down to dinner, and Hermione wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. She had built up the moment when she would see him again so much that it seemed a letdown not to get it over with now. And yet, it would not be an easy meeting, so perhaps she should be glad. The chatter and happy atmosphere around Hermione did not penetrate her pensive mood. Nor did the topic of conversation break through the barrier of her contemplative mind. In her head, she planned out exactly what she would say when she saw her professor. After all, she had overreacted dramatically. She wanted to blame the emotions involved in losing one's virginity, but knew it was more than that. She had always sought the professor's approval. Her mistake was in thinking that having sex with him would bring about that impossible result. And so, she steeled herself for the moment she saw him.

But he never came.

Bit by bit everyone left the crowded kitchen until it was only her. And she found herself hoping, despite herself, that her professor was alright.  _I'm truly twisted_ , she thought. How wrong was it that she couldn't hate him after what he'd done? She should; of that she was certain. And yet, she just didn't.

Finally, Hermione gave up on the dark professor and headed up the winding staircase to the ground level. It was in this dazed concentration that she ascended the stairs, so she did not immediately see him standing before her. Two steps away, she recognized that someone was there and moved to the side to let them pass. When they did not move, Hermione looked up, stirring out of her daze to meet the dark stare of Severus Snape. She was sure her gasp of shock and expression of horror were not lost on the Slytherin, but he himself showed no reaction to finding her here.

As she gazed into those deep, black eyes, Hermione was reminded of the last time she had stared into their inky depths. A heat blossomed on her cheeks and a strange knot formed in her stomach. And she couldn't say what she had planned to say to him. How hard could it be to tell him that she had overreacted and not to think her a silly, little fool? And yet, seeing him now brought back all of those irrational emotions; those feelings of betrayal.  _It was just business_ , she told herself. But now she knew that wasn't true. On her end, it had most certainly  _not_ been  _just business_. It had been her innocence; her first time; her body; her trust; her soul.

"Ah, Severus," came the voice of Albus Dumbledore from behind her Potions Master, "Good." The two seemed to shake off the tension in the air as the old man materialized and began to push past them. "I had hoped to speak with you both before I left." Trapped, Hermione had no choice but to follow the Headmaster back down to the kitchen.

* * *

 _Bloody brilliant timing Albus,_  Severus thought as he followed the girl down the stairs to the kitchen. The moment he had seen her headed toward him, his heart had clenched painfully with the guilt that haunted his waking hours. A million different things to tell her came to mind at once, but he could not voice any of them. And yet, just as he thought that he might know what to say, Albus had broken the scene and ruined everything.  _Of course._

Severus watched as the girl slid into a chair at the table, but he himself decided to stand against the wall. On this front, he knew they were in agreement; the Headmaster was an ill-timed annoyance.

"Miss Granger," the old bastard began, "It has come to my attention that you have been feeling unwell over the past couple of days." Severus felt anger welling up inside of him at the sight of the girl's stricken expression. "I was wondering if there was something I ought to know about?" Granger was clearly at a loss for words and Severus felt his own rage boiling over.

"Such as what, Albus?" he cut in angrily. The girl's tiny sigh of relief was not lost on him. The blues eyes of the old man met his in a determined stare.

"Such as anything that might have an influence on future events," he said vaguely, pointedly. "Severus, I do not need to reiterate to you the importance of the connection you now share." Ah, so he was finally worried about that prophecy.  _Bloody brilliant timing._

"Then I can assure you, Albus, that I will advise you when anything of import does occur." He expected Granger to flinch at this, but she showed no reaction.

"Alright, Severus, you've made your point. However, it does concern me to hear that your Occlumency lessons have been put on hold. I thought you understood how very important those lessons are." Severus did not respond. They had not continued with the lessons since Granger's abduction because he had wanted to give her a chance to recover first. True, he could have been practicing with the other children, but he hadn't. In that, he actually was guilty.

"Of course, Albus. We will resume them post haste," he replied drily, biting back the sarcasm that longed to unfurl from his tongue.

"Good," the Headmaster responded cheerfully, ignoring his angry expression. "See that you do." With that, Albus swept from the room with only a nod in Miss Granger's direction. And suddenly they were all alone. For one heavy moment, they were frozen and tense, as if bracing for impact. Neither said a word. Severus wanted to apologize to her somehow, but he couldn't find a way. The words all choked up in his throat and he couldn't force them past his twisted tongue.  _He had never been good with apologies_. Finally, Granger stood and moved around the table, making for the exit. He had to act now.

"Wait," he told her and she immediately froze. Then, as she turned her face to his, he saw the anger in her eyes and he knew his mistake. Cursing under his breath, Severus began again, "You don't have to wait." But she turned her body to him, expectantly, and folded her arms across her chest. He didn't know where to begin, or what to apologize for. He only knew that he had hurt her and he wanted to redeem himself. Letting out a shuddering sigh, he tried again. "I don't know what you expected the other night," he began, then cringed as he realized that he was using defensive technique. "That is, you may not have known what to expect, but the truth is, I didn't know what to do." Some of the anger seemed to fade from the girl's face at this admission, so he should have felt relieved. Instead, he felt uncomfortable and vulnerable. This was unfamiliar territory to him, and he didn't like it.

"It's alright, Professor," she began sweetly. The sincerity of her response made him want to throttle her. How could this be so easy for her and so difficult for him? It made him feel like such a fool. "You meant no harm." How could she talk about him that way? How could she presume to know what he meant? He had fucked her. Hard. Her first time. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself, and then left her there without a word afterwards. And why? Because he couldn't handle making himself vulnerable to a woman who had just spread her legs and bled into the sheets for him. How could she say that he meant no harm?

* * *

Hermione could see the quarreling emotions in the depths of her professor's dark eyes. The anger and self-loathing was so intense as to render it practically unfathomable. And when he turned back to her, she knew that he wanted her to fear him. "Do not presume to know me, Miss Granger," he growled. "I am not the innocent you seem to think I am. Unlike  _Black_  and Lupin and your little friends, I have seen and  _done_  unspeakably horrible things in my life. Do not forget it, Miss Granger."

His words did not surprise her. She had known as much before. But they did seem to make real that distant knowledge that he was a Death Eater. All at once, her mind seemed to comprehend that fact with painful clarity. And she would be lying if she said that she was not afraid.

And yet, beneath that current of fear, there lay another feeling far more powerful. And her heart only ached with compassion for this desolate man. And it gave her strength; a strength she knew she needed in order to face this fear of hers. And as he seethed, pouring his contempt into his stare, using all of his tricks to intimidate her, she met his gaze. Slowly, she allowed a tiny smile to touch her lips in sympathy. "I know," she said softly, communicating with her eyes that it didn't matter to her. Because she understood, as most others could not, that Nigredo came before Albedo, and even the blackest soul could be redeemed if the impurities were washed away.

* * *

It was a familiar scene. The most dreaded of nightmares. A thousand times revisited, and still so acutely painful. The pattern of the stone floor beneath him was forever embedded in his memory. The dark, unforgiving length of the corridor stretching out to either side. And before him a painting. Sneering down at him. And he with no password.

"I'm sorry!" he cried for the millionth time to the vacuum of space around him. The sound of his words was lost to the darkness of the hall. "I'm sorry!" he cried again, his desperation overwhelming all other thoughts. "Please! Forgive me!" But the words would go unanswered as they always did. And he sank to the floor. The familiar, unmoving stone. And its coldness seeped into his flesh. And its hardness seemed to push him away. And he wept hot tears against the cold, dry stone and whispered into the abyss. "I didn't mean to…"

But this time, the Portrait swung open. And his desperate eyes watched a pair of bare feet as they made their way toward him. And his gaze travelled up the familiar white of an almost-transparent nightgown. She was glowing faintly as she offered him her hand. And as he stood, Hermione smiled up at him. And the cold, unmoving stone was swept from his feet as she whispered to him, "I know."

* * *

Hermione stretched out on the couch behind Ron, studying her Alchemy text. The boys were once again involved in a game of Wizard's Chess. How they never got sick of the game when Harry didn't have a chance against Ron was beyond her.  _Surely it must get boring battling someone so far beneath you?_

It was good to be back with her friends, reading a good book while Ginny rubbed Harry's shoulders and Ron focused on the game. The name 'Paracelsus' caught her eye again. Apparently he had had a large impact on Alchemy and the future of Muggle Medicine. One of his contributions was to name the "Three Primes."

" _The Tria Prima (or Three Primes) are Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury; wherein Salt is recognized as Base Matter, Sulfur represents the Omnipresent Spirit of Life, and Mercury is the fluid connection between the two."_

The book went on to describe the four elements of Earth, Water, Air, and Fire as being essential to Alchemical processes.

" _Air (masculine) is a hot, wet element that represents the Mind. Fire (masculine) is hot and dry and represents the Spirit or Passion. Water (feminine), a cold and wet element, represents Emotion and Intuition. And Earth (feminine) is a cold, dry element which represents the Physical."_ Hermione had to stop and think about that, wondering which element she would be. She supposed Air was the obvious choice, but she saw bits of all of the others inside of herself as well. And what of her friends? Well, Ron was certainly Earth. Ginny was Fire. Harry could be Fire, or he could be Water.  _And what about Snape?_  Hermione brushed that thought aside, returning desperately to her reading.

" _The Seven Classical Metals correspond to the Seven Visible Planets. The Sun rules Gold (Pure Spirit). The Moon rules Silver (Pure Mind). Mercury rules Quicksilver (AKA Mercury—Mind over Spirit over Physical). Venus rules Copper (Spirit over Physical). Mars rules Iron (Physical over Spirit)._ "

Hermione snorted.  _Sounds about right._ She stopped the think about the implications of that. The Sun was gold and fire and spirit. The Moon was silver and Mind? Did that make it air? And the moon played a part in the Philosopher's Stone too, she recalled, in the Albedo stage. Lunar light; the reflection of the soul.  _Interesting._  She had heard the Moon described as a Cosmic Mirror. And silver was used in the making of mirrors, after all.

" _Jupiter controls Tin (Mind controlling Material). And Saturn controls Lead (Material controlling Mind)."_  Hermione resisted the urge to reach for her Mythology book. It was insane the way everything seemed to connect. The more she read, the more that seemed to be true.

* * *

Severus stepped inside the little study to face this dreaded meeting with all apparent ease. Seeing Potter was far too painful after the dream he had had the night before. All of those emotions were still battling inside of him. For the first time in a very long time, he felt vulnerable. Somehow that insufferable chit had managed to embed herself deep in his life. She was  _important_  to him. And that was distinctly bad. As much as he tried to distance himself from the girl and tell himself that he didn't need what she seemed to offer him, he couldn't deny that  _he wanted her._

And there she was, nose in a book, as always. He felt a stab of anger toward this girl who held such power over him.  _How predictable that she would be reading._  Yes, the girl was predictable and by-the-book. She was a mere formula of a person with rules and guidelines like some kind of machine.  _So then, why does she always throw you so off guard?_  Severus bit back a groan of frustration with himself, thinking back to that dream.  _Fuck._  He did need her.

"Granger," he growled in his most commanding tone, "I hate to break up what I am sure would have been a  _thrilling_  chess match, but I believe we had plans to resume Occlumency lessons today." Severus relished the sight of four faces blanching at once. Then, the other three scampered out of the room, chessboard in tow, and he was alone, once again, with  _her._

"Have you practiced your meditations?" He asked as he closed the door behind her little friends. Once again, he had the satisfaction of watching her face pale.

"No, sir," she began, but he cut her off before she could make excuses. They both knew  _why_  she hadn't been practicing.

"There will always be reasons  _not_  to practice, Granger. You must make meditation a priority if you are ever to be a successful Occlumens."

"Yes, sir," she answered in resignation. He sneered down at her and began to pace.

"Now, then, Miss Granger. Our… connection… provides a bit of a challenge. I cannot order you to show me something because you will be compelled to obey. However, I have devised a method of practice which I hope will prove most beneficial. It is often the case that the Legilimens does not know what to look for in his subject's mind. He will look for clues that suggest that a particular thread of thought is forbidden and he will follow it. Your job as an Occlumens is to distract the Legilimens with other topics that he might find interesting. Do you understand?" Granger nodded enthusiastically. "Very well. Prepare yourself." He watched as the girl's eyes grew wide.  _Prepare yourself indeed._  " _Legilimens!_ "

He was once again enveloped in Hermione Granger's consciousness. Only, the general feel was somewhat darker and more negative than it had been before. He suppressed a twinge of remorse at that realization. After all, most of the trauma she had experienced since their last lesson had been at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Probing her thoughts, he realized that there were a good many strands that she did not want him to follow. Many of them, he knew, he would not  _want_  to follow. This was going to be more difficult than he had anticipated.

It was painfully obvious that she was trying to show him more thoughts of Hades, but he refused to take the bait. Instead, latching onto one of the less prominent strands of thought, he found himself immersed in her memories of himself throughout her schooling. Visions of Potter and Weasley referring to him in every disrespectful way he could imagine flew past his curious eyes. He could feel her panicking, searching for something to distract him with. But he continued uninterrupted. There she was stealing ingredients for a Polyjuice potion in her second year. And then she latched onto a memory that she must have known would tempt him from his track. He saw the image of himself exposing his Dark Mark for the Minister's disbelieving eyes the night the dark lord returned. He watched Albus send himself off to meet his other master, knowing that he would be tortured mercilessly for his tardiness. Then, he watched as Granger trapped a beetle on the windowsill and a feeling of immense triumph overwhelmed his senses. He withdrew.

Granger fell back against the couch and they were silent for a moment before he finally spoke. "Granger, you need to learn subtlety. No one is going to be tempted by something you are forcing up under their nose. You must convince them that the false memory is the one you don't want them to see." Then he looked over at her. "A beetle, Granger? What the hell was that?" Her answering grin alerted him to a bigger story behind the one he'd been shown.

"Rita Skeeter," she answered proudly. "She's an unregistered animagus. I held her hostage in that jar for weeks before I freed her. And even then, I blackmailed her not to write anything I didn't approve." Severus was silent a moment, allowing the implications of that to sink in. If the girl hadn't caught that rotten woman, who knows what could have happened to him?

"That's… rather Slytherin of you, Granger," he teased, rather than letting her see the appreciation she was due for this feat. "Alright, let's try again," he continued without missing a beat. " _Legilimens!_ " The girl was so taken off guard that she allowed him to see the train of thought that she least wanted him to notice. Under the circumstances, he wasn't planning to tap into her deepest, darkest secrets. But the shadowed visage of one Sirius Black tempted him past his self-control. Granger desperately tried to show him thoughts about Potter and even himself, but he would not be distracted. He had to  _know_.

The memory of Black's face so close to hers was coupled with feelings of anxiety and discomfort, but the image was quickly replaced with a comparable one showing his own sated expression as his forehead similarly pressed against hers. This memory, surprisingly, held a softer sentiment. He could not pinpoint what it was, but it made him uncomfortable, and before he could decipher her feelings, another memory bloomed into view. This one, he could tell, she was most afraid of him finding.

_A warm hand upon her own. Sitting on her bed with Weasley. They met each other's eyes and he could feel the comfort and happiness bursting within her. Then, suddenly, Weasley's lips were on hers and she welcomed it. Something felt so right. He pressed hard against her mouth and they both fell back against the soft mattress. Then, he was practically on top of her, pressing his face eagerly against her own. His hands roaming her body…_

Severus withdrew forcefully from the memory. Something inside of him seemed to be breaking apart. It was a familiar sensation.  _Betrayal._   _This_  is what she had been hiding from him.  _This_  is exactly why he should have distanced himself from her.  _Too late._ He was vulnerable now; susceptible. Had he learned  _nothing_  the  _first time?_  And then anger began to fill him with a rapid vengeance. Before the girl could say a word, Severus silenced her with a simple command "Don't." Her mouth snapped shut. That pretty mouth. Those  _teasing_  lips. Lips that had quirked upward as he came inside of her. A smile that had comforted him in his dreams. That foul, betraying, untouchable mouth! "Your emotional ties to that  _boy_  do not concern me," he seethed, but the heady magical energy filling the room—swirling—expanding—belied that sentiment. "Care for  _whomever_  you will," he bit out, "But you belong to  _me._ " His voice was low; dangerous. "Have you not considered the  _danger_? Can you not imagine what would happen if rumors got back to the dark lord that  _you_  were consorting with  _him!?_ " And then his breath caught. Perhaps she had realized it. Perhaps  _that_  was the true reason for her recent despair. She was giving up her lover. Something was cracking. Something was bursting. Something was burning. And that sad little smile at the door to the kitchen…  _what of that?_  Acceptance. Not of him, but of her fate.

Tears were pouring down the girl's face as she struggled against the curse. The result of yet another painful memory he had forced her to relive. And then, suddenly, his arm lit up with fire and he sucked a breath in pain. " _Fuck!_ " Granger was motionless and wide-eyed on the couch before him. "I am being called." He watched the horror dawn in her cinnamon eyes.  _Not an unfamiliar picture_ , he reflected bitterly. "You may speak, Granger. Be prepared. I have no way of knowing what is planned for tonight, but it is possible that you will be called. If you are, you must only obey commands that I give you when I am sneering. Do not allow anyone to see anything incriminating in your mind. Do you understand?"

"Yes," the girl said softly. Terror was draining her face of color and she already looked weak enough to faint.

"Please," he implored her before sweeping out the door to return to the dark lord's side, "be strong."

And with that, he was gone.


	15. Chapter 15

As Severus landed at the imposing gates of Malfoy Manor, all of his wrestling emotions were immediately quelled. He could not afford to think of  _that_. Not while he was  _here._  As he headed down the familiar path toward the mansion, the eerie melody of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake wafted toward him on the light summer breeze, sending a shiver down his spine. Lucius always did have strange aesthetic tastes. He suppressed a sigh of resignation. Tonight would not be easy, but it would be necessary.

The ballroom of Malfoy Manor was decorated as if for a spectacular feast. A long table along one wall was covered in platters of varied meats and delicacies. Couches, cushions, divans, and other assorted furniture were placed strategically about the room. Strange and ornate mirrors covered the walls on all sides and the hall was lit entirely by low-lying candles.  _He_ _certainly has a flair for the dramatic._

Exotic dancers—muggles snatched from faraway lands, no doubt—danced on silver poles that stretched from floor to ceiling in a rough circle around the room. Many of the other Death Eaters were currently drooling over the girls, waiting for them to be released from the cylinder of protection surrounding them. The sight never ceased to twist his stomach with the vile recognition that they would soon be dead. Looking away from their twisting and contorting bodies he noticed that everything in the room was positioned around an unassuming black altar. With that realization came no small amount of foreboding.

"Severusss," came the greeting of their serpentine leader as he made his way through the chaos to the dark lord's throne. Kneeling before his master, Severus thought only of his distaste for Lucius's extravagant affairs.

"My Lord," he began, "You summoned me?" The revels were not mandatory, but most of his brothers looked forward to the gratuitous filth of Lucius's parties. He was under no delusions about the nature of his summons here. It was not a mere request.

"Severuss," the dark lord hissed in response, "Your brothers are hoping that you will summon your little prize."

Severus's eyes swept over the gathered Death Eaters in obvious distaste. "I'd prefer to keep her to myself." The answering sneer of understanding was a good sign. The dark lord understood a possessive and controlling nature. And neither of them ever participated in the public sex torture that the other Death Eaters frequently enjoyed.

"Severuss, were you never taught to share your toys?"

"I was an only child." Lord Voldemort cackled at that.

"But now you have brothers and sisters. And they want a turn. Perhaps you could agree to a compromise?"

"Such as?"

"She belongs to you. They need not touch her. But let them  _watch_." Severus bowed his head in contemplation. She would be saved that horror, but it was a nearer thing than he had expected it to be. Finally, he returned his gaze to his unyielding master. With a look of hesitance, he inclined his head in a short nod.

Voldemort stood from his throne and everyone's attention immediately focused on him. Years of torture training had taught them to always keep an eye on their merciless leader. "Tonight, we will have a little treat," he began. Excitement rippled through the hall, and Severus was sure that they already knew. "Your brother, Severus, has decided to join in the…  _festivitiesss_ … for once. And he has a special guest."

* * *

Knowing that she could be called at any time, Hermione paced the small study, panicking, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do. They should have talked more about this. He should have explained. And now, she might be catapulted into enemy territory at a split-second notice at any point while he was away.  _And they weren't even sure if their defenses would work, yet!_  She didn't have to wait long, however. A short while after her dark professor swept from the room, she felt the familiar tug of apparition. The effect of that tug, without any sense of control, coupled with her nerves and the immediate jolt of terror at being suddenly zapped into the middle of a den of chaos was enough to bring her to her knees before the Potions Master, retching. Then the bottom of his dragon-hide boot came to rest against her side before shoving her over.

The cold, hard stone of the floor was familiar.  _I've been here before_. This was the room where Bellatrix had tortured her. She didn't have time to reflect on that, however, as she became aware of her surroundings. Death Eaters. Everywhere. All of them watching  _her_. And the darkness of the room. And the stench of wine. And girls like her, naked, dancing on silver poles as eerie orchestra music resonated throughout. And all of it, the horror and the chaos and the filth was reflected from every angle in the mirrors that covered the walls.  _Nothing_  could have prepared her for this. And then she saw it, a stone altar directly behind her professor, in the center of the room.

Severus watched as the girl's eyes widened in terror more acute than he had ever seen her express. And he knew that there would be much more—much  _worse—_ to come. She would not be able to handle this if she knew the horror that surrounded her.

"Look at me!" came the deep, hardened voice of her professor. Her body obeyed before her mind even registered the command. She flinched at his hateful glare and somewhere in the back of her mind she marveled at his acting skills. He sneered, as if he had read the thought in her mind. "Stand up." He commanded. She immediately complied.  _Oh gods, what are we going to have to do?_  She realized that she was crying, but her mind was far past tears. This was danger; evil. She had to keep her head. Or else,  _everything_  could be lost. "Miss… Granger…" he began slowly, teasing his audience. The cruelty in his tone affected her despite the knowledge that it was an act. "Welcome to Malfoy Manor."

Snickering went up all around them, and Severus hated everyone in the hall; everyone except for  _her_. Not only was this torture for the girl, but it was humiliation for himself. He had not participated in the revels since his youth. And all eyes were on  _them_  now. It was  _sick_. He only hoped that he could appease the Death Eaters and get her out as soon as possible. It was a crucial balance. "You might recognize it," he continued, lacing his words with every ounce of scorn that he wished to unleash upon his so-called  _brothers_. "I believe you've been here before." The girl's watery eyes did not leave his own and she did not answer.

Hermione was not sure what she was expected to say, so she said nothing. Then, suddenly, her professor swooped toward her, reaching into her hair and using it to hold her hostage to his stare. When he spoke, his voice was deceptively low and calm. "Isn't that  _right_ … Miss Granger?" he was mocking her and the Death Eaters were thoroughly enjoying it, if their jeering laughs and catcalls were any indication. He gripped her tighter, jerking her head back and causing her to cry out. " _Answer me when I ask you a question."_

"Yes!" she cried.  _I trust him. He will not hurt me. Mind over matter. Like Mercury. Like Quicksilver. Like those horrible mirrors in every direction!_

"Yes  _what,_ Granger?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir!" she shouted, tears springing to her eyes from the pain at her scalp. She did not realize that he had been pulling her up onto her tiptoes until he suddenly released her and she stumbled, landing hard against the marble of the floor once more. The fall apparently broke the compulsion to look at him because she was suddenly able to see  _everything_. Those mirrors. Those women. And the  _men_ , staring at her, jeering, leering. Many of them were beginning to masturbate.

"Look at me!" he demanded again. Her eyes tore away from the horrors surrounding them and she tried to pretend that they were alone. He stepped toward her and reached into her hair again, using it to force her to her feet as he spoke, "On your feet, you miserable  _slut_." The darkness in his eyes was hard to reconcile with the softness she had seen there.  _Be strong, Hermione. He told you to be strong._

Severus had not thought much about what he would do if they were ever in this situation. He should have prepared more thoroughly. But she was here now, and he had to do something. He only hoped that this would satisfy his brothers and she would not be forced to return. Turning a twisted sneer on the girl—it would be easier for her if she had no choice—he let his voice drop low; mocking; teasing. "Take off… your clothes." Humiliation and fear spread across her face as she obediently complied, removing her t-shirt and the soft gray shorts she had been wearing inside-out.

Stripped to her underwear, Hermione felt no compulsion to continue undressing, so she stopped, looking at her professor; waiting expectantly. " _All_  of your clothes, Granger!" Even as tears rolled helplessly down her cheeks, she reflected that Snape's use of her name made her feel somehow more connected to him. It was as if they were in on some little joke. That she was human, after all. She focused on that thought as she bared herself to him for the first time.

It wasn't until she stood naked before him that Severus realized he had never seen her this way. Hadn't the entire purpose of their having sex been to prepare for this inevitable eventuality?  _Fuck._  He did not want to appreciate her body here, in this setting, but an act was expected, and he would need to be aroused.  _Fuck._  She was so beautiful; her small, firm breasts and pert little nipples. The soft swell of her hips from a slim waist. She looked so small, so soft, so… vulnerable.

Hermione watched the black eyes of her professor roam over her body appreciatively. She knew it was for show, but couldn't help the stirrings of emotions that it brought on. All she had ever wanted from this man was some sort of approval. And approval was written all over his face. "Come here," he commanded. She was not compelled, but quickly remembered to obey anyway. Stopping directly in front of him, she had to look up to see her professor's face. Then, he removed his robes, tossing them onto the ground. She watched as his hand slid down the row of buttons on his frock coat, magically releasing them from their holds. And he shed that garment as well. Then, he leaned back, ever so slightly against the altar behind him.

Instinctively, Severus knew that he would not be allowed to leave until his brothers were satisfied. He knew, too, what that would mean. If he did not tease them into coming, they would demand brutality. For this reason, although he desperately wished against it, he needed to ask more of the girl. "Kneel before me," he growled and the girl hesitantly complied. "Unbutton my trousers."

Hermione reached up toward the bulging front of his trousers.  _Oh bloody hell what am I doing?_ She was embarrassed by the contact and tried not to touch him there any more than she had to, though she recognized the absurdity of that. The buttons were small and difficult for her to undo, but after a moment of struggle, they all seemed to magically open at her touch. She knew that Snape was helping her and was immensely grateful. Even that tiny gesture made her feel so much more secure and protected. Whatever they did now, he would ensure her safety. And that was what mattered.  _She trusted him._

Snape reached past the row of buttons and withdrew his eager erection. Right in front of her face. She hadn't exactly  _seen_  it last time, so this came as a bit of a shock, which she tried to play off by glancing around the room. To her horror, the dancing girls were no longer twisting around their poles. Rather, they were scattered about the room, engaged in various grotesque activities with the other Death Eaters. Through the smoky haze of the candlelit room, she could see their gyrating bodies, but she could not hear. She had no doubt that it was her professor's doing. "Look at me," he intoned, once again. Remarkably, Hermione felt some of the pressure lift with the knowledge that other women were being likewise exploited. But she quelled that thought as a pang of guilt throbbed within her.  _How could I wish that on anyone?_

"Take me in your mouth," he commanded. She was not compelled, but she obeyed. A sudden flashback to an old dream sent a shock of self-loathing through his heart. He wanted her to do this to him of her own accord. He wanted her to  _want_  this. But she never would. Another man might have taken that as his excuse to enjoy it while he could, but for Severus, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn't want her this way.

Hermione was hot with humiliation as she wrapped her lips around his solid length. It was so intimate; so personal. It felt somehow as if  _she_  were trespassing on  _him_. The salty, musky taste was intriguing. That was something she had never considered. She rubbed her tongue across the tip, surprised by its softness. Her professor moaned deep in his throat and she felt a heat beginning to grow within her. Then his hand was in her hair and he used it to hold her still. And he began to move against her. At first this blatant expression of desire made her stomach flip in excitement. But then he was hurting her and for an instant she was angry that he had taken that moment away. But then she remembered herself and where she was and resigned herself to crying as he violated her.

Severus withdrew from Hermione's mouth throbbing. It sickened him to no end that his body could enjoy something that his mind was opposed to. And this was not the worst she would endure tonight. Luckily, they were no longer the only spectacle on display. "Stand up," he told her. And when she did, he turned and lifted her up onto the altar, pushing her back against it. He magically bound her hands to the black stone above her head and then moved to stand between her legs.

The stone was cold against her back and all around her she could see the enthusiasm of those in the crowd who continued to watch. It sickened her. Then her professor positioned himself between her thighs, bending slightly toward her, his hair falling down to shield his face on either side. And she caught his eye. And for a moment, when it was certain that only she could see, that cold black softened. And she saw his remorse an instant before he thrust inside of her. She cried out instinctually, but what little pain there was quickly eased. And as he thrust inside of her, it did not feel as it had felt before. But he was still rough, and she was still afraid.

Severus thrust urgently against her. It was more for show than for himself. He wanted her  _willing._  So, as he reached up to grip her hair and bite her neck and squeeze her breast, it was only a part of the act.

Amidst the chaos of the crowded room, Hermione found a kernel of hope.  _He cares_ , she couldn't help but think. She had  _seen_  it. And slowly the wheels seemed to click into place.  _That_ was why he was so upset about Ron. He may have passed it off as possessiveness, but that was a lie.  _It was jealousy._  And that realization as her professor pressed hungrily against her naked body caused a knot of bitter sadness to form in her throat.

He could feel himself reaching climax, but the girl's unnerving stare was making it difficult. He only wanted to be done with it. So he leaned down to her, pressing his chest against hers and nestling his face against her shoulder.

She could feel his hot breath on her neck as he panted against her and the way they were positioned seemed almost like an embrace. For one moment, she allowed herself to believe that he was indeed embracing her. And tears streamed from her eyes. It was all so wrong—so unfair—that  _this_  was how things had to be.

Severus was close. Ignoring the guilt, he focused on that distant ball of fire, urging it to surface. And as he felt it rise up inside of him, it brought a new surge of self-loathing with it. "Forgive me," he whispered into her hair and he burst inside of her, pressing into her body as each wave of ecstasy washed over him. And he could feel the tears rolling down her cheek.

Her limbs were trembling and she bit back a sob as she felt his seed spilling inside of her. And in that moment, as they lay together, before he pulled away, her eyes turned heavenward and she saw the painted ceiling she had seen once before, but never really noticed. And there, surrounded by several other figures all reaching for her, in the very center of the dimly lit ceiling, directly over her broken body was a beautiful angel bearing a torch of fire.  _Save us,_ she prayed. Before she could even register the absurdity of seeing an angel on the Malfoy's ceiling, her professor had pulled away from her and was re-buttoning his trousers.

Severus gazed down upon the pale body of Hermione Granger. Against the dark stone of the altar, she seemed to glow faintly. But then reality hit with a jolt like lightning and he had to be a Death Eater again. Unbinding her hands from the stone, he pulled her to her feet only to push her to the floor. Leaving her there—Severus was certain no one would be fast enough to touch her before catching a nasty hex from him—he made his way toward the dark lord's throne.

Hermione hit the cold stone hard and looked back to see the retreating form of her professor. Panic shot through her to be left alone by the altar and her eyes darted around her to assess the danger. Horror took hold of her such as she had never known. All around, though muted by whatever spell Snape had cast, the other women were being tortured in savage and unusual ways. There was blood. And now she saw it she could smell it. And everywhere she looked, more horrible images filled her eyes. And the thousand mirrors along the walls refracted and distorted the evil around them like a kaleidoscope of terror. It was chaos. And her eyes fell upon the unseeing eyes of a girl about her age; her body deserted in the midst of the debauchery. And Hermione began to retch.

"My lord," Severus began respectfully as he kneeled before the throne, "I have done as you commanded." The dark lord considered him with a cruel smirk.

"Indeed you have, Severusss," he replied simply.

"If you have no further business with me, I have no further business here." The dark lord quirked a lip at his faithful servant.

"You have satissfied your brotherss. You have my permission to leave." Severus bowed low.

"Thank you, my lord." With that, Severus retrieved the still-naked Granger and swept from the hall.

* * *

He apparated, not to Grimmauld Place, but to his own neighborhood of Spinner's End. The girl was not ready to return to that cheery hellhole. He carried her down the street, her naked flesh hidden inside his cloak. Even as they entered his pitiful dwelling, she kept her hands locked behind his neck, and face buried against his chest. Her body shook forcefully with her sobs. Not knowing what else he could do, he sat down in his favorite reading chair with the girl on his lap, making sure to keep his cloak wrapped around them both, and held her as she wept.

And he realized that it didn't matter one bit if she cared for another. All that mattered was that she was safe. And she was hurting and in need of comfort. So he would provide that for her. Because as much as he hated to admit it, there was no use lying to himself.

_He cared for her._


	16. Chapter 16

The numb peacefulness of sleep lifted as a fog clears beneath the sun. And as the cracked ceiling of the makeshift potions lab materialized before her, Hermione basked in the sensation of waking from a healthy rest. The first conscious thought she had was that she was naked. The feel of the cotton sheets against her skin was completely novel and deliciously forbidden. She stretched, arching her back and reveling in the sensation of sheets over skin. And then she froze. And sudden realization struck like a bolt of lightning, taking her breath away. Images began to flash before her eyes; images of the night before; images of horror.

And soon her heart was beating rapidly, as if she were reliving the scene. And the terror of her own public humiliation was nothing compared with the atrocities surrounding her. The torture. And those women; Hermione couldn't breathe. She was hit with the full force of comprehension all at once: they were all dead. Pain lodged in her chest as a hard knot formed in her throat and tears sprang to her eyes. To think that  _she_  had been worried about what would happen to  _her._   _I was so selfish!_  She remembered the relief she had felt to know that she was not the only girl being exploited.  _Selfish fool!_  Guilt welled up inside of her that she was alive and well; protected; comfortable; rested.  _I don't deserve to live when they have died._

These were not rational thoughts, a part of her mind remembered. But now was not the time for rational thoughts. Now, she could only feel pain so acute that she thought she might retch if she moved from her place in the fetal position. Tears poured down her face, and she closed her eyes tight, as if willing herself to return to the bliss of ignorant sleep. But she was wide awake. Dreamless Sleep will have that effect.  _Snape gave me Dreamless Sleep_. She vaguely remembered him waking her to tip something down her throat. She couldn't say she wasn't thankful for that, but it was another kind of nightmare to be imprisoned in reality, painfully aware. She wished he would give her another potion.

 _He must have brought me here,_  she realized. The last thing she could remember was crying on his lap in some unfamiliar place that must have been his home. She must have fallen asleep.  _And he brought me back; carried me, without waking me up_. Somehow the image of Severus Snape putting her to bed seemed far more intimate than anything else they had done. It made her heart clench to know that he was concerned about her.

And then another pang of realization hit her. With the revel in the past and school starting soon, her connection to Professor Snape would be effectively severed, in a way. Unless she was called to another revel (and she might beg for death rather than attend), they would never have sex again. That was a funny thing to be thinking about at the moment, she mused, but it was something she hadn't considered before. Everything would go back to the way it was, and he would be her professor again. Except that, everything most certainly could  _not_  go back to the way that it was. Everything was different now. And she wasn't sure she liked the idea of being separated from the one person who understood what she had been through.

* * *

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose as he drowned out the petty chatter around him with his own internal monologue of endless worries. He had not slept last night. He often didn't, after such affairs. Granger had been completely exhausted from the stress and terror, and he had given her a Dreamless Sleep potion to ward against nightmares. It should have worn off by now. And yet, the girl had not surfaced. It was already midafternoon and he did not want to have to send the Weasley girl in there for her again.  _Of course,_ I _could do it._  That was an idea.

Severus bit back a groan of frustration. He didn't know how to comfort people. And that was certainly what the girl needed, but there was no one she could talk to. Except for him.  _Fuck._ Severus poured himself a mug of tea and told himself he would wait a little longer.

Soon, however, he found himself ascending the stairs to the little potions lab and standing in front of the door.  _Perhaps she needs more time_ , he thought, but he refused to simply walk away now.  _Should I knock?_ He decided that that would be the polite thing to do… if he decided to go in. Oh, who was he kidding? He  _had_  to go in. Raising his knuckles to the dark wood, Severus hesitated only a moment more before knocking.

There was no reply.  _Fuck. What do I do now?_  If he left, he'd be giving up, and she would know. If he went in, he'd be being rude.  _Oh, what, now I'm afraid of being rude?_  Severus felt a ripple of disgust with himself for his weakness when it came to the girl.  _Pathetic._  Reaching for the doorknob, he let himself into the small room.

Immediately, the girl bolted up in the bed, ripping the sheets up over her shoulders. But not before he caught a glimpse of her naked torso turned languidly on her side, her hair falling in twisted curls across her collar bone, between her breasts. After everything they had been through together,  _this_  seemed a more personal intrusion. He mentally berated himself for stripping her of her privacy along with everything else.  _Oh, fuck._  What the hell was he supposed to say?

"How are you feeling?"  _Could you have been any more generic?_ Granger visibly relaxed at his words and dropped her eyes to the mattress.

"I can't complain," she replied bitterly.  _Oh._  He knew that tone. He could see the sentiment in the way she held her frame. This was something with which he was quite familiar.  _Survivor's Guilt._

"Miss Granger," he began. It was awkward standing over her, knowing that she was bare beneath those sheets. "Forgive me," he found himself saying, "I should have better prepared you." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Honestly, Professor, I don't think  _anything_  could have prepared me for that." He nodded awkwardly, thinking that perhaps he should leave, when her eyes began to water and she brought the sheet up to hide her face. Cringing against the words he was about to say, he took a deep breath and braced himself.

"Do you want to talk about it?" The words came out more impatient and grudging than he had intended and the girl's head came up to give him a tiny, mocking grin. Something expanded painfully in his chest at the realization that he had made her smile. Then the grin drooped into a miserable frown.

"Is it always like that?" she asked. Severus brought the chair back beside the bed and sat upon it.

"Yes." He wasn't going to lie to her.

"That's so terrible," she whimpered. "And the girls… they… they kill them all?" Severus's eyes turned down to the mattress.

"Yes." The depth of emotion in Granger's eyes was too much for him to bear. He did not want to begin sympathizing with the women at the revels. It had taken a very long time for him to learn to distance himself from the victims he would never be able to save. Instead, he studied the tiny toes poking out from under the sheets. They were small, with no polish, but very clean; just the way he would have imagined them to be. When he looked back up at her face, it was buried in the sheets again. Her bare shoulders were now visible, reminding him of her undressed state. Feeling himself reacting to that thought, he quickly suppressed it. "Do you…" she trailed off. With a jolt of horror he realized what she was asking. "Nevermind. I don't want to know."

"No. I do not participate," he hurried to tell her. Those pale shoulders slumped in relief and she peeked her eyes out from behind the sheets. They were swollen and red from long hours of crying. "Usually I am able to leave the revels rather early."

"I don't know how you do it," she said softly and he realized that her expression was one of admiration. It made him distinctly uncomfortable, especially given what he had done to her the night before. Severus shifted in his seat.

"I have been a Death Eater for longer than you have been alive, Miss Granger." There was that funny smile again.

"No you haven't." She did not elaborate and he found himself staring into cinnamon eyes that were full of tenderness. A knot of longing formed in his throat.  _I cannot have her._  She eventually broke the contact, her eyes sliding down his neck, then the long line of buttons down his coat. She blushed and turned her gaze to the toes peeping out from underneath the sheets. For his part, Severus was frozen stiff at her blatant stare. He had never felt more exposed. She pretended to know him so well. And yet, she struck upon certain truths. Then her obvious perusal of his person left him breathless with need. Now was certainly not a time to be aroused. He cleared his throat.

"You should spend time with your friends today. It will help you cope," He told her, standing to leave. Her reluctant expression was interesting.  _She does not want to see them?_  Then her eyes shot up to his.

"I don't have any clothes," she blurted. Despite himself, Severus felt his face begin to heat. He certainly wasn't about to go digging through her suitcase in the girls' room. Whipping his wand out of his sleeve with a quick grace that made her lips fall open with an admiration that caused a stirring in his trousers, Severus conjured a nightgown from thin air. It was practically identical to the one she had worn  _that night_  and Severus hoped she wouldn't read too much into that; and somehow discover that he saw it in his dreams. "Thank you," she whispered. He merely inclined his head before sweeping from the room.

* * *

Hermione took a scalding hot shower in an attempt to rid her flesh of the disgust that seemed to stick to her. Try as she might, she could not merely wash the revel away. It was part of her now; part of how she saw the world. That would never change. She did emerge feeling a bit better, however. At least her hair no longer held the scent of a thousand floating candles. And her skin was no longer coated in the sweat from her own fear.

Hermione rubbed the vapor from the mirror and appraised her own reflection. She looked sick; paler, thinner, dark smudges under eyes that were puffy and red. Sighing, she looked away and began to dress. Her favorite grey shorts had been lost to the shadows of the revel, she realized. That made her sad in an inexplicable way. She really loved those shorts. And in a way, they were very much a part of her. A part of her that she would never get back. Pulling on some jeans and a plain, white tee, Hermione took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom.

She found her friends in the kitchen. Apparently the Weasley Twins had deemed it necessary to bring a load of their products to the house in order to… entertain… the bored teenagers. Ginny jumped up when she saw the other girl.

"Hermione! Where have you been?"

"Asleep," the older girl replied, half-truthfully.

"Well you're missing all the fun! We're celebrating leaving this ruddy dump." Hermione froze.

"Leaving?" Was it that near the end of summer?

"Yeah, silly. Aren't you excited to go back to school?"

"Yeah," Hermione answered absently. She felt as if school was a world away, in a different life. "When do we go back?" Ginny stared incredulously at her.

"You're joking, right? We leave tomorrow."  _WHAT?!_  Ginny grinned at her stricken expression. "Yeah," she continued, "Seriously. We're going in groups to the station. Splitting us up, you know? Like last year." Hermione nodded vaguely. "So… Don't you want to celebrate?" the redhead asked excitedly.

"Sure," Hermione replied, looking around at the cheerful crowd. Perhaps this was exactly what she needed.

* * *

He was surrounded by darkness so profound that it seemed all the light was gone from the world. And the abyss around him seemed to suck away all pleasant feelings, like the touch of a Dementor. The darkness was empty in a dense way. And though it was mere darkness, it seemed to grow closer; caressing him; consuming him. And he knew that he would never escape that strong pull; dragging him down; splitting him apart.

And then, there was a faint, distant light. Even a pinprick was enough to break the oppression of the black, but it grew larger as it came nearer. And it was not a mere light. It was a figure, like a patronus, come to drive away the evil that surrounded him. And as she stepped closer, he saw that it was an angel. And she reached out to him, the light of her bare feet forming a floor beneath them. Her hands grasped his as he met her cinnamon eyes.  _You are not alone_ , they seemed to say. And she reached up on tiptoes to press a kiss against his jaw, her warm face brushing against his, bringing life into it. And then she moved to kiss the other side, and his arms wrapped around her waist.

She could not reach his forehead without pulling him down, and he collapsed against the floor beneath them, the angel on his lap, straddling him. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him against her. And his hands roamed the delicate body revealed by the sheer material of the nightgown. Then her lips were right in front of his own, and he reached for her, pressing his lips against her own. And they were no longer enveloped in darkness, but rather spread out beneath the pulsing heat of the sun. And she moved against him with urgent desire as his hands explored her now-bare skin.

Then they were making love. And she was above him, looking tenderly into his hungry eyes as she pressed against him. He sought to touch her everywhere, to know every bit of her. And he had never known anything more beautiful. Their movements became urgent and her lips came to capture his in a passionate kiss. He was about to come.

Severus woke himself up before he could soil the bedsheets like some adolescent boy. But throwing the sheets off of him, he took himself in hand and fervently finished the job. Picturing the tenderness in Hermione's cinnamon eyes, he let out a primal groan as his seed released. Then, panting and covered in his own ejaculate, Severus felt the familiar twinge of self-loathing.  _What sick, twisted sort of man am I?_ The girl's life had been completely upturned and all he could think about was having sex with her. Because, selfishly, he wanted her.  _I am a fool._ He needed her. But wish as he might,  _he_  was not the one she loved.

* * *

_Please Review!_ **:}**


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione watched the hilly countryside roll by in a blur of green serenity as the Hogwarts Express carried its students to the school. She had not paid much attention to the landscape since her first ride on this train, headed to the magical place that would soon drastically alter her world. But now, after so many weeks of darkness, it was amazing to Hermione that such beautiful peace could exist in the same world.

She sighed. This year would be different from any other. Her recent experiences distanced her from her friends, mostly because they  _could not know._  But also because they could not relate. And the one man who did understand her would be on the other side of the desk again, and she would have to pretend that nothing had happened between them.  _And what of Malfoy and the other Slytherins?_  Had their fathers told them about her?  _Oh gods!_  Had they been there themselves? Hermione brushed away that thought and pulled away from the window.

Deciding to immerse herself in a book, rather than contemplate her reality, she withdrew Snape's Incantation text. He had not asked for her to return it, so she continued to reread it, ostensibly in preparation. Although, the rational part of her mind reminded her, she sure was paying a lot of attention to those scribblings in the margins. That spidery handwriting. It was very familiar, as she had seen it sprawled out in red ink all over her Potions papers for six years. And yet, here, it seemed more personal. He was not critiquing her homework. He wasn't even speaking to her; he was speaking to himself. But he had allowed her to read it.

Hermione was determined to create her Word Search spell as soon as she could. That would give her something to do and take her mind off of other matters. She had even already decided on an incantation:  _Quaero Verbum_. If her Latin was correct, that ought to mean "I search for a word." But she had never studied Latin, and was therefore depending on a Latin dictionary. Once again, she considered one of her professor's notes.

_I have found that an incantation which does not describe the_ _true_ _intent will not function properly. It is imperative that the caster be entirely honest with himself about his intent, in order to choose the correct incantation._

That didn't exactly apply here, but she did wonder what sort of spell her professor could have been working on with an intent that he found difficult to admit to himself. It would have to be some sort of dark magic, she realized. And that did not sit well in her mind. She knew that he was a Death Eater; that he had willingly gone to the dark lord, pledged his loyalty, and taken his mark; that he had done horrible things in the name of Lord Voldemort before he became a spy for the Order. She didn't even know  _why_  he had turned spy. And she  _certainly_ didn't know why he'd joined in the first place.

But this tangible evidence of his dabbles in the dark arts made it seem real and even current. The ink he had used during those dark days was beneath her fingertips at this very moment. This was the book he had used to create a curse. So why did he give it to her? A part of her thought that he might have been trying to remind her that he was a Death Eater, as he had done on multiple occasions. It was as if he didn't want her to think well of him. As if he knew that he couldn't live up to any sort of good image of himself. Well, if that was the case, she was determined to prove him wrong.

Soon enough, they were pulling into the Hogsmeade station, and Hermione's stomach flipped nervously. She was remarkably on edge, for no apparent reason. But somehow she felt as if seeing Snape at the Head Table would reestablish their relationship as teacher and student, and everything else would be brushed under the rug. Weeks ago, she would have prayed for that to be the case. But now, after everything that had happened, it seemed that severing her connection to the dark Potions Master would break down everything she had done to cope with the trauma.

Hermione was deep in thought, following Harry and Ron in the general direction of the carriages when she abruptly stopped. In front of her was the most ghastly looking thing she'd ever seen. She would have thought it was the reanimated corpse of a horse that had been buried years ago if she didn't know what it was. A thestral. She could see the thestrals. What a horrible welcome back that was for any student who had seen death; an ugly reminder the second they stepped from the train. Oh, you've had someone die in front of you? That's awful, but at least now you can see the thestrals!

Belatedly, Hermione realized that she would have to pretend not to see them. The others did not know that part of the story, and she was not at liberty to tell them. Averting her eyes from the multitude of horrible creatures and trying not to remember that she had actually  _ridden_  one, Hermione turned her gaze to the distant glow of the castle. The usual excitement to return to her studies and the comfort of her second home was absent. All that she felt was a gnawing dread for everything that awaited her there and for the difficult year that surely lay ahead.

* * *

Severus sat motionless at the Head Table as he awaited the arrival of the students. He could hear the distant sound of carriages and knew that it would not be long. For yet another year, he would have to put up with the brats. That is… if he lived that long.

And then, the river of children began, as it did every year, as the little dunderheads invaded the peaceful hall. Breathing in a deep breath, Severus braced himself. Joy. Cheerfulness. Blissful ignorance of the world around them. Friendship. Good memories. Excitement for another year at Hogwarts. Appetite for a hearty meal. These were all things that Severus did not have. And usually, over the summer, he was able to do as he pleased—specifically  _not_  see other people—and often forgot that said other people actually had these things. But once again, as the snotrags flooded into the hall, he was confronted with this fact.

But this summer had not been like the others.  _No_ , this summer had been far worse. And now, watching the room fill up with smiles, his anger simmered just beneath the surface. They had no idea what horrors were right behind the smokescreen that the Ministry had erected. And then he saw her—the one little ray of sadness in a hall of shining faces. And his heart clenched. And in that moment, he honestly wished that she were among the insufferable smilers.

When the students had finally decided to grace their seats with their entitled little arses, Severus swept his gaze to the Slytherin table. The unsubtle glances in his and Miss Granger's direction almost tempted him sneer down at them in disgust. They were a poor representation of their House to be so blatantly obvious. Well, that answered one of his questions, at least.  _They know._  To his disgust, they only seemed to admire him  _more_.

He watched dispassionately as the new dunderheads were Sorted. The Welcoming Feast never failed to depress him; reminding him that another long year was to come. And yet, this year, it would be different. This year, Albus had finally agreed to give him what he wanted. At the time, his miserable stay at Grimmauld Place had seemed a small price to pay.

The children Sorted, Severus ignored most of Albus's announcements, until the old man finally reached the one that interested him. "Also, please welcome Professor Horace Slughorn. He will be taking up his old post as Potions Master, while Professor Snape teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts." While the delivery of the announcement was a tad disappointing, the effect it had on the hall was most certainly not. The calm atmosphere immediately shifted to frenzied whispering and bobbing heads, like a pond when it suddenly begins to rain.

Each table reacted differently. The Slytherins grinned up at their Head of House with something akin to Triumph as they taunted the rest of the school. The Gryffindors were in an uproar at the  _unfairness_  of it, their panties all in a bunch. The Ravenclaws seemed to be considering him, weighing the pros and cons, calculating the odds of finding a better defense or potions teacher, hoping this would be the best solution academically. And the Hufflepuffs were all shaking in complete terror. He saw the quirk of Albus's lip before the Headmaster finally announced the beginning of the feast. Forcing himself to eat a full plate, Severus mused that perhaps this year would not be so bad, after all.

* * *

That night, after shutting herself away in her four-poster bed, Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill. She was finally able to write home, as she did each year, but did not know what to say.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

She hesitated. She couldn't tell them anything, but she wanted to reach out to them for support, as she always had.

 _I miss you desperately._ She paused. Perhaps if she vented her emotions via some other scapegoat…  _It has been a rough summer, locked away in that dingy house. Not that I minded seeing Harry and Ron_ , she rushed to assure, _but it would have been nice to see a bit more_ sun _on my holiday._ She bit her lip. On one hand, they would really worry about her, but on the other, she needed to talk to someone, and it couldn't be her friends.  _The house is dirty and cramped with people coming and going all the time. And any slight noise wakes up this giant portrait of a prejudiced old witch who only screams insults at me for my blood status. It's ridiculous! I will never understand how people can be so prejudiced against someone based on their genetics! You may think muggle racism is bad, but wizards are so much worse. Of course, they are about 500 years behind, as far as social advances go._

 _I feel like it's getting worse. Even now that I'm back at school, the hate is just so overwhelming. Everyone is divided politically and we're in the middle of a war that could lead to muggle-borns being forced out of magical society. It just makes me_ _so_   _angry! And I just don't even know what to do about it._ Hermione sighed deeply.  _I'm sorry for ranting, but it's just been really rough. I miss you so very very much and I can't wait to see you at Christmas._

_Love, Hermione._

She breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a little bit better for having vented a little of her frustration, but she was eager for their reassurances. So she slipped out of bed in her nightgown, threw a dressing gown around her shoulders, slipped on some shoes, and headed to the Owlery.

After selecting a bird, tying her letter to its leg, and sending it off with a treat and instructions to wait for a reply, Hermione did not immediately leave. There was a peaceful solitude to this place, especially at night, and it relaxed her in a way that nothing else had, yet. Except… well… actually except for Professor Snape, if she was honest with herself.

As her eyes adjusted, she could see the grounds of the castle and the outline of the forbidden forest. The dark lake reflected the Moon and the stars as perfectly as a mirror. She found that funny because the Moon is sometimes referred to as the Cosmic Mirror. So it was a mirror in a mirror. She thought about that. If that were truly the case, the sequence would continue indefinitely in a tunnel of mirrors that went on forever.  _Like Infinity._

Before she could really grasp the implications of that, a hand clamped over her mouth as an arm circled her waist, holding her own arms against her sides. Her muffled screaming was quickly silenced magically. "Hello, Granger," came the arrogant voice of Draco Malfoy.  _Shite!_ "Haven't seen you in a while," he purred against her ear. And in that instant, she  _knew._   _He was there!_  "I've gotta say, I had expected you to put up a bit more… fight." At that, the hand that had been covering her mouth strayed down to fondle her breast. He groaned, pressing his erection into her back. Try as she might, she could not pull away from him. He was too strong.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape began as he stepped out of the shadows. Hermione had never been happier to see the dour Potions Master. Malfoy dropped his hold on her and swung around to face his Head of House. Hermione watched, unable to speak, as their professor swooped down on them, a dark anger in his eyes. "It is customary to ask permission before playing with another man's toys," he growled in a low, dangerous voice.

"Sorry, Uncle…"

"Don't 'Sorry, Uncle' me! Here, I am your professor and you are my student. A student, I might add, who is currently out past curfew."

" _She_ 's out past curfew, too!" At that, an evil sneer spread across Snape's features, making Hermione's heart race inexplicably. When he spoke, his voice was an octave lower than it had been.

"And she will be punished accordingly." A shiver of fire raced down Hermione's spine and she felt her cheeks heat at his words. Malfoy turned to her and she belatedly remembered to play the part. Her eyes grew wide with fear and she took a step backward. Her professor stepped away from Malfoy to capture her wrist in a painful grip. Her cry of pain was silent from the curse. Snape looked right into her eyes as he spoke to Malfoy. "Go to bed, Draco. Before I am forced to give you detention." The boy started to leave when the Slytherin Head spoke again. "And Draco," he began, turning the full force of his glare on the snobby blond, "Don't  _ever_  lay a finger on my property again!" She saw the boy nod before hurrying down the stairs.

Then, suddenly, she was alone in the tower with Professor Snape. The tension went out of her in a deep sigh and she almost smiled up at him, before she realized that his anger had not dissipated. He threw up wards around them before speaking. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he spat. "Haven't you learned your lesson about sneaking off when you aren't supposed to?"  _Ouch._  That one stung. "You're lucky I was here. If I hadn't found you…" his eyes lit up like balls of fire and she stepped back from him in fear, but his hand was still around her wrist and he yanked her back to him. She had never seen such fury in those dark depths. "Get to bed. And don't let Draco see you on your way." He released her wrist and Hermione was immediately compelled to obey. Running down the stairs, tears began to form in her eyes, and she wasn't sure why.

He was angry with her.


	18. Chapter 18

Hermione was only half-conscious as she nibbled on her toast. All night, her dreams had been plagued by images of the revel. It was her first night without the Dreamless Sleep and she hadn't realized just how horrible that would be. After the first few hours of nightmares, she had merely stayed awake, crying into her pillow and half-attempting to read in order to distract herself. In the end, she merely lied there, awake, staring up at the ceiling above her as light slowly crept into the room. She was exhausted, but refused to sleep. Rest was not worth the nightmares.

So as she chewed the dry bread (she hadn't had the energy to butter it) a flurry of unconnected thoughts drifted in and out of her mind, nothing staying long enough to capture her attention. Even the sudden appearance of an owl beside her plate had little effect on her. She groaned at the effort of detaching the letter and stuffing it into her bag for later. Hermione returned to her toast as the forgotten owl bristled and then angrily flew away.

"Hermione, you look dreadful!" Ginny exclaimed loudly somewhere near her ear. Hermione grunted in reply. "Didn't you sleep last night?" The answering grunt was clearly in the negative. "Hermione, you have got to sleep. Look at you. You're a complete wreck! Don't you know classes start today?" Hermione's head banged against the table in defeat. "Oh, come on! Don't do that! Here, what you need is a good strong cup of coffee." Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. She'd never been much of a coffee person. But soon a steaming mug of the sweetened brew was placed in her hand and she obediently sipped at it.

 _Hhhmmmm coffee._  The rich flavor was softened by the addition of cream and sugar and Hermione was quite sure this was nothing like the coffee she had had before. The pungent taste seemed to wake her senses even before the caffeine could have gotten into her system. She looked up just in time to see Professor Snape leaving the Great Hall.

"I don't think I've ever been less excited for a Defense class," Harry grumbled, looking down at the schedule Professor McGonagall had given him upon entry into the Hall that morning. Hermione snapped to attention, grabbing her own schedule from its forgotten place beside her pumpkin juice.  _Oh, no._  Defense was her first class today!

Eventually, the Trio left the Great Hall, waving to Ginny as she headed off on her own, and heading to their first DADA class with Professor Snape. As Harry's and Ron's anger seemed to simmer right below the surface, Hermione's nervousness was similarly rising up inside of her. That coffee was turning her stomach in a sickening, twisting way, and she couldn't seem to stop biting her lip in anticipation.

 _Oh, no._  As they reached the door to the Defense classroom, it became clear that this class would be equal parts Gryffindor and Slytherin.  _What a disaster!_  Hermione hung back with her friends, but it didn't take her long to notice the many eyes that kept flitting over to her from the Slytherin crowd. For a moment, she couldn't breathe as she sought to maintain her composure.  _They know._  Her heart was beating wildly in her chest—aided in small part by the large amount of caffeine pumping through her system—and she was beginning to feel lightheaded as her breathing returned in the form of quasi-hyperventilation. Tears were just behind her eyes, but she wouldn't allow them to see that weakness. She  _couldn't_  break down right now.  _What would Professor Snape think?_

Just then, the door to the classroom swung open with a bang, and their Potions Master—scratch that—Defense Instructor was there. Silence reigned. Severus Snape tended to have that effect. "Enter," he said simply, the deepness of his tone resonating in that aching cavity within her chest where everything seemed to be building up to an explosion. She hung back as long as she could, catching his eye as she made her way toward him at the end of the line. He must have sensed her distress, for as she passed, his hand touched her shoulder, as if to usher her inside. But that small touch seemed to ease the growing knot inside of her. In her semi-delirious, sleep-deprived, and caffeine-induced state, it almost seemed to say ' _you are not alone.'_

"Now then," their professor began when everyone was seated. He moved slowly toward the front of the classroom, drawing every eye to his robed form. "Many of you have expressed objection to my appointment as your new Defense teacher," he drawled in a bored tone. "The  _opinion_  being that I will be biased by my own relationship with the Dark Arts." There was collective intake of breath at this pronouncement and a heavy tension descended upon the classroom. Every ear was trained on their professor as every head restrained against the urge to turn and share glances with those around them. Hermione, herself, was very fully awake now, and feeling the pump of adrenaline through her system at his dangerous words.

"By now you have all discovered this  _history_  of mine, but do not believe the whisperings of the  _children_  around you. I have forsaken that dark path, but I did once know it intimately." He had reached the front of the room, and swept around at this, turning a sharp eye on his students. "It is for this very reason that I will be better equipped to teach you how to  _fight_ it. I trust you remember your fourth year fiasco with Mr. Barty Crouch. A Death Eater. But you learned more about the Dark Arts that year than in any other year…  _so far._ "

"In this class, you will learn to fight. Not duel,  _no_ , Death Eaters do not play by the rules." The suggestion was shocking. Even though the Ministry had finally accepted Lord Voldemort's return, it was still a taboo subject at school. For their darkest, evilest professor to suggest that they would be fighting the followers of the dark lord… it did not bode well. "War is upon us, make no mistake. It is unfortunate timing for you; old enough to fight, but not experienced enough to win." Another pang of fear went through them, but still no one moved. "You may whine, you may gripe, you may call it  _unfair_ , but know this: there is no  _convenient_  time for war."

"Therefore, you must prepare yourselves, and it is my job to assist you. But we will not begin with combat.  _No_. There is an even greater danger to the Dark Arts that you all must understand before you fight. And that is that there is no  _line_  between Good… and Evil. Believe that, and you will succumb to the Temptress that is Dark Magic. For, like a Siren, she pulls you toward her unknowingly until you have crashed on the jagged rocks and are forever lost to the dark sea." Hermione realized that she wasn't breathing, and it didn't seem as though anyone else was, either.

"For as long as humans have ruled this planet—magical and muggle alike—there has been a struggle between Good and Evil." Snape adopted his lecture stance at this and began to pace. There seemed to be a collective exhale as a bit of the tension left the room, but the weight of his words still hung around their necks, like the proverbial albatross. "It is often much more difficult to discern Good from Evil than one might expect. That is something that each of you will struggle with and which I cannot answer for you. You must come to terms with it, yourself. And both can be found inside every single one of you—though  _some_  of you think you can do no wrong. You must confront the evil within, or it will consume you. But know this: Good never does harm. You will all be tested in the coming year, but you must keep in mind, the toughest war does not present itself on a battlefield. It is within yourself." He paused then, allowing the heavy lecture to sit on his audience for a moment.

"Now," he began again in a lighter tone—strange to think that Snape even  _had_  lighter tones. "How about a bit of dueling practice?" With a flick of his wand, the desks they were sitting in slid to the back of the room, leaving a large open area for practice. More than one muffled squeal erupted from the already anxious students as they found themselves suddenly thrown backward. But that was enough to break the tension and allow for a bit of nervous laughter as they climbed over the jumbled desks to stand before their professor. "I understand you have been taught a bit of nonverbal magic. By the end of this year, you will be so practiced with this that it will come as easily as any verbal spell. Who can tell me the advantages of nonverbal magic in a battle setting?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air automatically, but as her professor turned to look at her with a malicious smirk, she immediately regretted it. When he spoke, his tone was equal parts impatient disdain and morbid satisfaction. "Miss Granger, do try not to answer every question this year." The magic of the curse brought her hand down to her side as the sound of snickering Slytherins met her ears. When she turned to glare at them, they were all leering horribly back in her direction, and she understood with a painful jolt that her professor was mocking her  _for their benefit._  " _Potter_ , perhaps you've had enough time to think that one over."

For one long second, Harry didn't seem to comprehend that his professor wanted him to answer the question instead. When he caught up, he hastened to respond. "Well you've got an advantage," he said, stumbling over the words. His face grew red. "That is, they have less time to respond, so you're more likely to hit." There was a long pause as a horrible sneer spread across their professor's face.

" _Very_ good, Potter." The Slytherin's cackled once more and Hermione felt herself filling up with rage. Before this summer, she would have been the voice of reason telling Harry and Ron not to get angry with Snape; that they would only be rising to the bait. But now, after everything that had happened, she felt somehow betrayed. That was irrational, she knew. Snape wouldn't change the way he was just because of something silly like  _sex._  A bitter resentment simmered inside of her at that thought.  _Bastard._  "Perhaps you would like to demonstrate for us?" Snape waited as Harry, unsure what to do, slowly stepped out of the crowd of students and into the large, empty space with their professor. For all Harry's proud appearance, he looked to Hermione like a boy in a lion's den.

Snape's wand appeared in one swift movement that caused a collective gasp from the Gryffindors. By comparison, Harry looked a bit foolish as he fumbled for his own wand and angrily pointed it at his professor in anticipation. Snape's own stance was bored and his wand wasn't even pointed directly at the boy. "We don't have all day," he drawled and once again a snicker snaked through the Slytherin side of the room. Suddenly, Harry sliced his wand through the air in an angry gesture as he restrained against the urge to shout the incantation. Hermione's heart leapt inexplicably an instant before Snape blocked Harry's spell with a lazy flick of his wrist. The repelled magic knocked Harry flat on his back. "Yes, we have a  _very_  long way to go," Snape drawled, turning away from Harry to approach the class. Foolishly, the boy took that as his opportunity to attack again, leaping up and sending a jinx at his professor's back. But Snape was no fool. He caught the jinx with a swipe of his arm as he spun around to face his student. "You play dirty, Potter. Should I be surprised? 50 points from Gryffindor and you'll spend next week in detention with Filch." Harry tried to speak, but Snape cut him off, "I'm being generous,  _Potter_ , don't push it." Fuming, Harry slammed his mouth shut and returned to Hermione's side. "Pair up!" And with that, the class divided into pairs to practice silent spells for the remainder of the class.

* * *

After class that afternoon, Hermione dragged herself up to her four-poster and collapsed on the bed. She didn't even bother to change clothes as she slipped off to sleep.

Mirrors. Everywhere, mirrors. And mirrors  _within_  mirrors, creating tunnels of horror like an eternal kaleidoscope of pain. She was falling. Mutilated bodies and leering faces flew past her at a sickening speed as she fell through the tunnel of mirrors. It wouldn't end and her throat was tight with tears and a restricted scream.

Bolting up in her bed, Hermione realized that she  _was_  screaming. Her hair stuck to her skin from sweat and tears as she stepped out of the bed, her legs shaking. She hurried to the bathroom that she shared with the other two girls and splashed water on her face. Drinking a bit of the cool liquid, she stared into the mirror until her heartbeat slowed.  _Funny how such a simple thing can be so powerful_ , she thought as she considered the looking glass.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice called into the room. Hermione quickly tidied her appearance and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Yes?"

"Sorry. We were wondering where you went. It's time to go down to supper, and I wanted to come find you before we left." Hermione's heart ached at the realization that Ginny was there for her, now. Neither girl really spent much time in the company of other girls, but somehow they had become friends this summer, and it was truly a blessing. The boys never would have worried about her like that.

"Thanks, Ginny," she said, smiling. "I'm ready."

* * *

"You heard him! 'I have forsaken that path…' HA! Did you see the way the Slytherins were laughing? It's because they  _know_. He's a Death Eater through and through!" Harry's temper had not cooled in the interim between class and dinner. If Hermione didn't know better, she would say that he was feeding it intentionally.

"Professor Snape is not a Death Eater, Harry," Hermione responded evenly. The little group grew silent. Hermione never talked about what happened to her, but they all knew that Snape had brought her back.

"Well, even if he's not, 50 points!? It's the first day of school! And on top of that, I have  _detention!_ "

"Come on, mate," Ron chided, "He could'a done a lot worse. I mean, you bloody  _attacked_  him!"

"He deserved it!" Ginny, who had been warily watching the other girl, took this opportunity to intervene.

"Well, at least he didn't take away your Saturday. Still going to have Quidditch tryouts?" That seemed to brighten the boy's mood considerably.

"Definitely! I've been working on some great strategies for our games. We'll win that cup this year for sure!"

Hermione drifted off into her own thoughts as the other three focused on Quidditch. She didn't mind it, usually, but at the moment her thoughts were not very pleasant company. She glanced up at the Head Table, where Professor Snape was watching the hall like a great, black gargoyle. Was she brave enough to visit him and ask for more Dreamless Sleep? She really did need to see him. So many things were weighing on her mind, and he was the only one she could talk to; Malfoy, the Slytherins, the upcoming war, her attempt to create a new spell, and even Ron. She had never explained to him about that memory he saw, and she couldn't help the little bit of hope that he might be easier on her if he knew.

But as she watched the dark professor sweep from the hall, her nervousness got the better of her. There would be Slytherins in the dungeons and she didn't want to face their knowing eyes when they saw her headed toward their Head of House's door.  _Perhaps I'll wait until I'm making my rounds, tonight._  As a prefect, she was permitted to wander the school later than the other students, as long as she was fulfilling her duties.

And so, with this in mind, when supper was over, Hermione headed to the library, instead. She didn't even know what to look for as her eyes scanned the titles of the books on the dusty shelves. Ideally, she wanted to read a magical account of chaos, but she had given up hope of finding something like that without the spell she was planning to create. Instead, she allowed her fingers to run along the books as she walked down the aisles, thinking that something might stand out, somehow. One of the books quite literally stood out from the rest, stopping her hand in its path down the shelf. Her mouth quirked at the sight of such a large book and she pulled it from its shelf.

Hermione blinked down at the cover of the book in her hands. It was a Divination book of all things, focusing on the subject of Astrology. Usually, Hermione would be inclined to stuff the book back where it came from, but at the moment, this book seemed oddly appropriate. After all, she had been studying the Moon.

Back in the Gryffindor Common Room, she cracked open the spine and turned to the table of contents. Most of the chapters were complete gibberish to her, but the second chapter caught her eye:  _Planets_. She remembered the bits she had read about the planets in her Alchemy book and eagerly flipped to the page. On the first page, there was a brief description of each of the Visible Planets. Above that, there was a small paragraph explaining that planets were either diurnal, nocturnal, or neutral; and had differing proportions of "Appearing" and "Showing," where a planet that only Shows is exactly what it seems and a planet that only Appears is merely reflecting. Turning to the list of planets, she read the first two over and over, trying to make sense of it:

_The Sun: The Circle of Spirit, with no beginning and no end, whole and complete. We are a part of the whole spirit, but we are a spark: the point where the infinite manifests into finite form. The sun, the most diurnal planet, represents human drive to action, the need to be recognized, and the need to express the self. The Sun is the most "Showing" planet, blazing with spiritual truth. It is generally associated with the circulatory system and the heart and symbolized by the Hero, father, king, leader, teacher, or even God._

_The Moon: The Crescent of the Soul: the soul receives and holds the spirit. The Moon, the most nocturnal planet, is associated with femininity, women, motherhood, the past, and the subconscious. It represents our need to nurture and to be comforted. The moon is our emotional, reserved side that needs to connect to the rest of Creation. It is associated with the triple-goddess archetype of women: Maiden during the waxing phases, Mother during the full phase, and Crone during the waning phases. The Moon is a purely Appearing planet, only seen when reflecting the light of the Sun._

Hermione gaped down at the page. Once again that feeling that everything was related was swelling inside of her like excitement. This was just like with the Philosopher's Stone. The Alchemy book described Albedo as being related to "Lunar light" and the "reflection of the soul," while Citrinitas was related to "Solar light" and an "inner light" that was associated with gold. Excitedly, she decided to read the rest of the brief descriptions before turning to the pages that described the Sun and Moon in greater detail.

Mercury was the Messenger, connecting the soul and the physical realm. It represented the expression of logic and intellect through a particular skill. Venus represented Love, beauty and harmony. It was associated with the need to feel connected to another. Mars represented Aggression and Self-assertion and the need to survive and to challenge. Jupiter paralleled the human desire for growth, freedom, faith and spirituality. It was associated with optimism, faith, trust, confidence, and the desire to improve oneself. Saturn was the need to structure the world, valuing self-reliance and responsibility. It also represented the desire to make ideas tangible.

Uranus represented the unexpected and disruptive (accidents and miracles), moments that transform one's life. Hermione stopped to ponder that one a moment.

 _Accidents and Miracles. The process of spiritual awakening. The experience that forces us to reevaluate all the beliefs and foundations in our lives._   _When and how the walls come tumbling down—and whether we are freed from prison, or exposed and threatened as a result._ A chill went down her spine and she moved on to the next planet.

 _Neptune: The truth that reality is an illusion; the ultimate creative force; the ultimate potential for creation and creativity in the universe. Our ability to fantasize, to dream, to try to connect and comprehend the infinite potential of the universe. Dissolves all boundaries and structures._ That sounded like Chaos and the Philosopher's Stone all at the same time. Her head was beginning to hurt.

 _Pluto: Death and Rebirth. The ultimate destructive force of the universe. Our lack of control. Transformation and Change. Destruction. Burning away of unnecessary aspects of life._ "unnecessary aspects of life?"

"What was that, Hermione?"

"Hmmm? Oh, nothing."

 _Symbolized by the Phoenix. Change and evolve. Fulfill cosmic or soul purpose._ Her heart was beating quickly now.  _Born from the ashes,_ she thought.  _Like the Philosopher's Stone._ Could such a horribly, drastically life-changing event truly lead a person to fulfill their 'soul purpose'?

There was another planet beneath Pluto and her brow wrinkled as she looked down at it.

_Chiron._

But that wasn't a planet at all, it was an asteroid.

 _The symbol for Chiron is the shape of a key. This planet, named for a centaur healer from Greek Mythology, represents where we encounter and have the opportunity to accept spirituality. This often comes through the wound—the weakest point. Through our efforts to heal this wound, we are able to transcend the wound and experience a true spiritual connection. The urge of this planet is to heal, to transcend the bounds of the physical reality and connect with the truth of the universe. The need of this planet is to carry the light; to allow the light energy of the outer planets to enter the physical body and begin the process of spiritual and physical transformation.*_ Hermione backtracked to read a bit of that again.  _The need of this planet is to carry the light._ She thought back to the image of an angel bearing a torch of fire on the ceiling above her at the scene of her greatest wound of all.

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice shocked her out of her reverie. "It's getting late. Don't you have to do your rounds?" Hermione jumped up.

"Why what time is it?"

"It's nearly ten."

"What!?" Hermione set the book aside, not even bothering to put on her school robes before hurrying out the Portrait Hole.

She didn't bother with rounds. Snape would be furious with her as it was, but she had to make it to his rooms at least by ten. Her heart was pounding as she reached his office door. Would he answer? Would he dock points? How mad would he be? But that didn't matter as much as her need for Dreamless Sleep. With that thought, she tapped her fist against his door.

A moment passed; a moment of agonizing powerlessness, knowing that he could very well just not answer. In fact, he might not be in his office. He might be in his personal quarters, wherever those were. But then, Professor McGonagall's rooms were accessible through her office, so the same must be true… The door slammed open and there stood Severus Snape, looking remarkably disheveled. His black robes were gone; as was his usual frock coat. All he wore was a plain, white shirt, buttoned up to the neck, but the sleeves were rolled up his arms and for a second, she had a glimpse of the Mark.

"Granger!" he growled angrily. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her eyes grew wide and she suddenly forgot what she had come for. It was remarkable the effect he had on her, even without his impressive robes. "Come inside." He commanded before she could remember why she had come. Her body immediately obeyed, stepping forward and pushing against him to gain entrance. Her hands pressed against his stomach; a stomach, she realized, that she had been pressed up against before. For a moment, he seemed confused, and then he laughed a hearty laugh that she could feel through her palms. He stepped aside, allowing her to come in and closed the door behind her.

"It's not funny," she told him when his eyes met hers with continued amusement.

"Have a seat, Miss Granger," he replied and she immediately obeyed. Moving around his desk to take his own seat, Snape's lip twitched up again in a smirk. She glared back at him. "Tell me," he continued, "what on Earth could possibly possess you to knock on  _my_  door  _after curfew_." She wished he would stop commanding her that way.

"I wanted to ask for Dreamless Sleep," she answered him. The cheerfulness in his eyes disappeared at that and a solemn, empty seriousness took its place. Hermione's heart clenched at the loss. And yet, even with the serious mood, being in his presence made a sort of warmth spread through her, allowing her to relax a little bit. She was  _safe_  here.

"Forgive me," he replied in a low voice that spoke of his weariness, "I should have thought to provide you with more." Then he stood and went to a large, ornate metal cabinet. A wave of his wand and the doors creaked open. He withdrew several vials and placed them in a small box before handing them to her. "There are seven," he said. "For the first four days, you may use them consecutively. With the last three vials, skip a night between them. It is unhealthy to develop dependencies on potions and this one in particular is a very dangerous addiction." He was speaking from experience, she was sure. And she smiled at him when he handed her the box.

"Thank you, Professor," she said. But she did not leave. There were so many other things that she wanted to discuss with him, but now did not seem the time for most of it. She couldn't just blurt out that she wasn't in love with Ron Weasley. He would surely make her feel like a complete fool. There was a heavy silence between them for a moment before she finally spoke again. "Malfoy was there." The words hung there in the air, laden with meaning, making an awkward tension grow between them. Reminding them of what they had done together.

"Well, it is his house." She stared at her professor. Why was he making this so difficult? He, more than anyone else, should understand the loneliness of having no one who really understands. Of course,  _he_  preferred it that way. "It is likely his father sent him out before anything really happened." She nodded, feeling a bit better at that thought.

"He—he called you 'Uncle.'" Snape nodded.

"I am his godfather. And Lucius is one of my oldest friends." Hermione felt a shiver run through her at that. How could he be friends with that monster? "Miss Granger," he continued in a tired voice, "it is already past curfew." Heat flooded her face as she jumped up from the little chair.

"Sorry, Professor. Thank you for the potions." He inclined his head in a mere nod but continued to stand beside the desk. As she headed to the door, the warmth was already beginning to melt away, and fear was filling her at the thought of being alone again. She turned back to him as she reached for the doorknob. "Goodnight," she whispered. He did not respond, but she did not expect him to. Instead, she opened the door and stepped out into the dark tunnel of the dungeon corridor.

* * *

_*Once again just wanted to make sure I gave credit to Kevin Burk and his Astrology book. Most of the planet information is quoting from him._

 

_Oh yeah and please Review!!!_


	19. Chapter 19

Hermione glared at Harry over her bubbling cauldron. He was using the Prince's book again. When her friend had found the ratty, old book the year before, it didn't take them long to realize that this Prince was a potions genius. Using his advice in class improved Harry's potions remarkably. But Harry had been afraid that Snape would discover the book and take it from him, so he had refrained from using it, opting instead to order a new one from Flourish and Blotts. This year, however, with Professor Slughorn as their teacher, the boy had decided to use his improved Potions book, much to Hermione's chagrin. She told the boys that she didn't trust this Prince person, but the truth was that she resented the way going against the rules was benefiting her friends. Was there no reward for doing as she was told?

Hermione was convinced that the "Half-Blood Prince" was actually a girl named Eileen Prince. When she had told Harry that, however, the boy had practically jumped down her throat telling her that he was sure that the Prince was, in fact, "a bloke." She wanted to prove him wrong, somehow, as if making him see that he was wrong about the Prince might make him question his faith in the Prince's techniques. But she just couldn't find any more information on Eileen.

Promising herself that that would be her first search when her spell was ready, she headed off to the Room of Requirement after class for a bit of practice. As she withdrew Snape's Incantation text from her bag, however, a crumpled piece of notebook paper fell out with it, distracting her from her task. Reaching for it, she realized that it was her parents' letter from the day before. She had completely forgotten about it in the pandemonium of the first day of school. A surge of excitement washed through her as she opened the lovingly folded paper.

_Hermione,_

_We are terribly upset to hear that you are having a hard time. It is true that the world is full of hate, and that will never change. You just have to grit your teeth and be strong. There will always be someone out there who tries to pull you down, but remember that you have so many people in your life who love you and that will lift you up. So, if someone doesn't like you, what does it really matter in the long run? It's their loss._

_All you can do is resist the urge to hate them back. It will only hurt you. Put yourself in their shoes and try to find pity for those who have no love in their life. Remember the words of Mahatma Gandhi when he said "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind." Or Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. who said "Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." And don't worry, darling, you will learn not to be affected by the hate. Just don't ever forget that we will always be there for you. And we love you very very much._

_All our love, Mum and Dad_

Hermione stared down at the page.  _Of course!_  They couldn't have said it better. Just as Harry's mum had saved him and destroyed Voldemort with her love, so could she wash out the impurities festering inside of her with love. She could redeem herself. She could become pure again. She thought back to her reading the night before. Chiron was the planet that "carried the light." It was the path of redemption, through the deepest wound. Chiron was from Greek Mythology, she remembered. Without hesitating, she pulled the Mythology book from her bag. Rifling through the pages she felt a keen excitement when she found Chiron.

_Chiron was a centaur born of Cronus and the nymph Philyra. He was a master healer, but is more famous for being the teacher of heroes. Among his pupils were Achilles, Jason, Theseus, Perseus, and Heracles. Some legends even say that he taught Dionysus himself._

_In a tragic accident, Chiron was pierced by one of Heracles's arrows, which were poisoned with the blood of the Hydra. Being of divine heritage, Chiron was immortal and could not die, but neither could he heal his own wound. Rather, he was left to suffer in agony from the poison._

_Far away, the Titan Prometheus had been bound forever against a rock to live the recurring torment of having his liver eaten by an eagle every day, only to have it grow back at night. This was his punishment for giving Man fire and he would not be released from it unless a god was willing to take his place. Chiron gave up his own immortality to free Prometheus from this suffering; his final act of healing. Seeing this, Zeus took pity on the centaur and transformed him into the constellation Sagittarius._

While it was interesting, Hermione did not believe that this new information had furthered her understanding of the planet. Shoving the book back inside her bag, Hermione turned back to the Incantation text, opening it to the correct page to begin her practice.

* * *

Severus stared down at the marble floor, kneeling as he waited for his master's command.

"Severussss," came the devil's voice and the dark Slytherin suppressed a shudder of repulsion. "Your studentsss have spoken of little elssse besides your dramatic, little ssspeech. Their fathers have been most  _anxiousss_  to make me aware. I hope your explanation is a very good one. For your ssake."

"Forgive me, my lord. The old fool gave me very specific instructions for the first day of class. I did not plan to obey, but the girl informed me that Potter and his friends had been told to spy for their Headmaster. They were to report to him to ensure that I complied with his orders." Though his head remained bowed, Severus knew that the dark lord was pacing in anger.

"He is suspiciouss? He still does not trussst you to teach Defense Against the Dark Artssss?"

"He is afraid that I will be tempted by the allure that brought me to  _you_  in the first place."

"Ah yesss. Albus knows that  _allure,_  himself. But we need him to trussst you."

"My lord, if I may, he is afraid that I will bow to the presence of your spies in my classroom." Lord Voldemort cackled at that.

"Of coursse. You walk a difficult line, Severuss. How are you to teach the Defense class and pleassse both your masstersss?"

"I am but your pawn, my lord. I will teach it whatever way you see fit." There was a heavy pause while the dark lord considered this.

"You will teach as the old fool commands," he said finally. "They are but children; what threat could they be? We need you to be as close to him as possssible. He has to trusst you. And that will give us the added benefit of his belief that my Slytherinsss bow to  _your_  authority."

"I will do as you command, my lord. I am forever your faithful servant."

"And what of the girl? Has she any more valuable information for me?"

"No, my lord. For the moment, Potter has only spoken of his excitement for the new school year and his upcoming Quidditch tryouts _._ " The dark lord laughed at that.

"Good. Let him focuss his attention on a game. He will remain unprepared."

"He will never be prepared, my lord. I will see to it."

* * *

The Gryffindor Common Room was quiet with the first night of serious studying. Tomorrow was the third day of class, and the first for which homework would be due. On the bright side, however, it was also a Friday.

Hermione leaned over a long parchment of notes on Conjuration, preparing to write an essay for Professor McGonagall. As she organized her ideas, the boys unabashedly stared over her shoulders at the work she had done. She knew that they were copying, but what did it really matter? They always had and they always would.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a House Elf appeared before them, startling a tiny shriek from Hermione. The other students turned to see what the commotion was as the little elf leaned in closer to the bushy-haired girl. "I's to take Miss Granger to the Headmaster," it said. Hermione's brow wrinkled.

"Okay…" she began, but before she could even ask the elf more about this mission, a little hand had grasped her wrist and they were gone. Landing in the Headmaster's office, Hermione stumbled a bit from the dizzying effect of apparition. House Elf apparition, it seemed, was somewhat smoother, but only marginally. When she was steady enough, she looked up only to have her breath catch at the sight of Professor Snape seated in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Ah, Miss Granger," the Headmaster began, his eyes twinkling as he studied her from across the dark wood. "So good of you to join us. Please, have a seat." Another chair appeared beside Snape's and Hermione hesitantly moved toward it to sit down. Whatever was going on, it couldn't be good. "Severus and I were just discussing plans for the next time you are called." A jolt of shocked fear shot through her at this pronouncement, followed by a twinge of humiliation.  _Did Snape tell him about that?_

"You see," the old man continued cheerfully, "your professor has just been to see Voldemort," Hermione gasped and looked at the dark wizard. She noticed the way his jaw tightened at the mention of the dark lord's name. "and  _he_  seems rather keen on gaining information through you. We believe that it would be wise to invent some lies to feed him in order to keep you useful." The rest was left unsaid, but Hermione understood that being useless to the dark lord was a death sentence. She felt a bit lightheaded. Then Snape began to speak.

"I had no way of telling you that I was called," he said. The worry in that statement was clear. They needed some way to get in touch with each other. "I suppose I could have called you to me before I left, but that seemed a bit excessive, and I had no way of knowing if you were with company. It might seem suspicious if you suddenly disappeared."

"Will that even work at Hogwarts?" Hermione asked. "There is no apparition or disapparition…"

"Save us your memorized facts, Granger. Being called is different from pure apparition. It is more akin to House Elf apparition. We will have to test it, certainly, but I believe the wards will not inhibit the magic of our curse."  _Our curse?_

"The problem of communication, however, is the most pressing matter," Dumbledore reminded them.

"Well, I may have an idea about that," Hermione began sheepishly. "In fifth year, we charmed Galleons to use as communication devices for the D.A."

"The what?" Snape spat.

"Dumbledore's Army…"

"Ah, yes, your little gang of hellions…"

"You charmed Galleons, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

"Yes, sir. I used a Protean Charm. It allowed us to send out the dates and times of the next meeting and the coins would grow warm when there was a new message."

"Brilliant," the Headmaster praised. Snape let out a huff of breath.

"It's not immediate enough. What if she doesn't feel the coin right away? We cannot take the risk that she could be unprepared for a summons."

"Ah," replied the old man, "but the same magic could be applied to rings." Both Hermione and her professor seemed to stiffen at the thought of having rings connecting them to each other.

"I don't wear rings." Snape growled.

"Come now, Severus. You could disillusion it when it's not active." Beside her, Snape crossed his arms, but remained silent. Dumbledore withdrew his wand and swished it through the air several times, as if he were conducting an orchestra. Suddenly, two golden bands formed on the surface of the desk and the two leaned forward to look at them.  _Oh gods, they look like wedding rings._

"A Protean Charm, was it?" Hermione nodded. She watched as the Headmaster charmed the golden bands in a similar, but slightly more complex way.  _I now pronounce you Master and Slave_ , she thought bitterly as the old man held a ring out to each of them. "These will work both ways. If one of you changes the appearance of yours, the other will be similarly transformed and will grow warm. However, the ring will not be likewise affected by a disillusionment charm. We can't have rings suddenly appearing on your fingers." He chuckled at that and teacher and student held their rings in their hands, unsure about where to wear them. Hermione tried hers on the second to last finger of her right hand and looked over at Snape to see that his was on the same finger of his left. Then they both disillusioned the rings and looked up at the Headmaster once more.

"And what of the lies we will tell him?" Snape asked.

"First, tell him that I am teaching the boy Occlumency. It will hardly matter anyway. If the boy is captured, Tom's priority will not be reading his mind."

"And their connection?"

"I believe Tom is unable to control that connection. He is afraid of it. I do not think that he will attempt to use it." Snape grunted in acceptance. "There is another thing, Severus. I was hoping you would pay a visit to your good friend, Lucius." Hermione's eyes popped up to the Headmaster's at that.

"What do you want with him?" Snape drawled in a bored tone.

"I need to access a very particular part of the Ministry that I know he controls. Of course, he's a lot fonder of you than he is of me. How likely do you think it is that he would be willing to grant you access?" Hermione was beginning to feel like she was intruding.

"Well, that would depend on which part of the Ministry and what you're willing to offer him."

"Well, I am hoping to get a hand in the Department of Magical Transportation." Hermione's brow wrinkled. "Find out what he wants and then I will decide if I am willing to pay it." Lucius Malfoy certainly wouldn't need money. Hermione's stomach twisted to think what the horrible man might want.

"Transportation?" Snape repeated.

"Yes. I'm still trying to decipher that prophecy. It was rather more like a riddle than most and I was thinking that the 'key' could be 'portkey.'" Professor Snape had gone very still, but Hermione was completely lost. She couldn't remember anything about a key in the prophecy about Harry. "After all," the Headmaster continued, "the mark on her arm works rather a lot like a portkey." Confusion warred with comprehension in Hermione's mind. Surely this prophecy couldn't have anything to do with  _her_. And yet, as she glanced at her professor, he was studiously avoiding her gaze. "But that's a topic for another time and I've got paperwork to complete before bed. I'm afraid I've kept you out past curfew, Miss Granger. But I'm sure Severus won't mind escorting you to Gryffindor Tower. Severus, do let me know what Lucius says as soon as you can." The two were reluctantly escorted from the office as the Headmaster spoke, leaving no opportunity for interruption. Once outside, however, with the door closed behind them, Hermione turned on her professor.

"What prophecy?" She knew the tone was forceful, but in this she planned to have her way. Her professor sighed.

"Come," he growled. "We will discuss it in my office."

* * *

Severus wished the girl had been wearing something other than her usual sleepwear when she had been brought to the Headmaster's office. As he gazed down at her slender form from behind his desk, his body reacted to the delicious sight. At first, Severus had thought that returning to school would dampen this bizarre attraction that had developed over the summer. And at first, he was able to distance himself enough to see her as the bushy-haired know-it-all, Brains of the Golden Trio that she was. But it had been an illusion.

That first night, as he gazed out on the castle grounds from a favorite perch in a familiar tower, something had caught his eye. There, leaning out a window of the Owlery, glowing in the light of the moonlit night, dressed in a familiar nightgown, was Hermione. And in that unguarded moment, the truth of his affection for the girl attacked his senses, leaving him breathless with need. And he realized that that need was not merely sexual. He saw her attacker the moment before he struck and a pang of fear shocked his nervous system at the thought of anything happening to her. Before his mind could finish the thought, he was running.

Now, as he stared down at her, he was equally afraid. She would not forgive him for keeping this secret so long. "I have meant to speak of this to you before now," he began.  _You're making excuses._  He sighed. "On the day that you were taken, there was a faculty meeting at Hogwarts. I—" he wasn't sure how to explain. Either way, this was a heavy burden for her to bear. Not for the first time he damned the Headmaster's atrocious timing. "I was accosted by one Sybil Trelawney who then proceeded to have a vision and tell me the fateful prophecy. At the time, we were unaware that you had been taken."

"What did the prophecy say?" by the look of her, Granger was totally absorbed in fascination with this story. Severus collected himself and then began to recite the prophecy to the girl, carefully avoiding her gaze.

"The dark lord now holds the key to his own demise. The one who has been taken will be released, but free no more. He who holds her chains shall have the key. Unlock Victory and she shall be free." Hesitantly, Severus allowed his gaze to fall over the girl. She was ashen-faced and wide-eyed as if she had just been witness to a horrible tragedy. One hand shot to her side, as if to reach for her bag. But there was nothing there.

"Do you have a bit of parchment?" she asked breathlessly. Severus quirked a lip. Strange how he could find her incessant need to take notes so endearing. Fumbling in a drawer, he withdrew a blank scroll, quill and ink, and handed them to her. She stood and leaned over his desk, scribbling furiously at the parchment against the dark wood. Severus was temporarily distracted by the view down her shirt. "What was that last part?" she asked. He pulled his gaze from her pale cleavage and repeated the question in his mind.

"Unlock victory and she shall be free," he purred, somewhat surprised to hear his voice so low. He watched as she bit her lip, focusing on her task as his mind drifted elsewhere. Then, suddenly, she withdrew from the desk, sitting back in her chair and staring off at one of the walls. He watched her thoughts flit across her troubled visage. First there was amazement, but that slowly turned to wounded betrayal, and his heart clenched at the sight as she met his gaze evenly.

"You knew this before you saved me?" She was hurt. He had hurt her.

"Yes." He would not deny it. He would always tell her the truth.

"And you never told me." She was speaking to herself, and Severus was not sure if he should answer her or not.

"The opportunity never presented itself," he replied, and that was mostly true.

"It never  _presented_  itself!?" Oh, she was angry. She was  _very_  angry. He bowed his head slightly, as if in shame. "You didn't think I might like to  _know_  something like this!?"

"Miss Granger…" he began, but he was not given the chance to finish the thought.

"No! I'm sick of this! I'm just a pawn here! I have gone along with  _everything_  you have asked of me!" Tears were forming in her eyes and he felt a knot forming in his throat. There would be no overcoming this blunder. " _I_   _trusted_   _you!"_ she cried, tears trailing down her cheeks. _Trust?_  Remorse welled up inside of him. Someone had finally given him trust; something he always believed he would never have. And he had betrayed her. "I know you don't care," she was saying, "I don't know why I'm even surprised." She was talking more to herself than to him, now.

"Miss Granger…" he began again, but she would have none of it.

"Don't. Please, just don't. I have to go." She grabbed her parchment and stumbled around the chair, heading toward the door. "I have to go," she repeated, reaching for the doorknob, and Severus knew that this was a turning point. He could either ask her to stay—to forgive him, to listen to him, to trust him again—or he could allow her to leave and accept the fact that she was not meant to believe in him. After all, she needed to know that he was not the hero in this story.

The door closed behind her and Severus let his head fall into his hands. He had never learned how to deal with women. And now he realized that he had hurt the only person who really mattered to him. Again.


	20. Chapter 20

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. A headache was forming from all of this tension, but it couldn't be helped. In a matter of minutes, he would begin another Defense class with the 7th year Slytherins and Gryffindors. And that meant Granger. He hadn't seen her since the night before when she had stormed out of his office in a rage. And it was now painfully clear that he should have told her about the prophecy earlier. He kicked himself for letting Albus beat him to the punch.  _Damn that meddling old man!_

Swinging the door open, he allowed the students to pass him into the room. Granger did not deign to glance in his direction.  _So that's how it's going to be?_  he thought.  _Fine. That is a game I know well._  He refused to be angered by her coldness. It was enough that she had the power to stir such raw emotions in him; very few people had that power. He  _certainly_  wasn't going to let her see it.

As the students were seated, he watched the redheaded oaf of the Trio lean over to whisper in the girl's ear. Despite his resolve not to be affected, this caused a surge of fury to grow inside of him, simmering right beneath the surface.

"Pair up!" he growled, pushing the desks to the back a bit too forcefully and watching the pathetic class of idiots crawl over each other to free themselves from the jumble. "No," he stopped them dead in their tracks with the deep growl. "This time, I will choose your partners."

Morbid satisfaction festered inside of him as he watched his Slytherins battling the Gryffindors. This time, he had paired Draco with Weasley. Somehow, the redhead had fallen in his regard to become the most hated of the Trio. After all, he had  _her._  Soon, Weasley was practically running away from his godson, and Severus sneered in angry gratification. His eyes swept to Granger where she was paired with Miss Parkinson and his chest swelled with a mixture of strong emotions at the sight. The insufferable chit was throwing jinxes like they were going out of style, unleashing all of the fury that Severus knew she had been suppressing for far too long. Parkinson was clearly losing, but remained determined. He stepped closer to the girls, ready to stop the duel if it grew out of control.

"Bloody hell, Granger, he should keep you on a leash!" Parkinson shouted and several of the other Slytherins in the room were subsequently hit with spells from their partners as they froze in shock at her words. Granger's eyes lit up with a wild rage as she redoubled her efforts to destroy the other girl.

"Stop," Severus commanded, afraid that someone really would do damage soon. But as the girl's hands fell straight to her side, those cinnamon eyes locked onto his and in their depths he could see such fiery contempt that he almost took a step backwards. Then tears began to spill across her delicate cheeks and she turned and ran from the room. Severus did not call her back, choosing instead to raise an eyebrow at her retreating form, glancing around the classroom as if to include them in the joke. "Gryffindors," he growled as he twisted his features into a horrible sneer. "Never considering the  _consequences_ of their actions."

* * *

Hermione ran through the castle as fast as she could, before anyone could catch up to her and force her to return to class. Without even glancing behind her, she ran toward the one place she knew would keep her safe: the Room of Requirement. It was not until she was safely confined within its walls that she allowed herself to breathe. Sinking to the ground against the door, she let her head fall between her knees and wept.  _I have no control_ , she thought.  _I am only a pawn in their game._  Except, that wasn't true. If the prophecy was to be believed, she was a vital part of this upcoming war. And the pressure of that was staggering. Her heart pounded in her chest.  _I cannot bear that responsibility alone._  But who could she tell?

 _No,_  she told herself, raising her head in determination.  _I am strong. I will take matters into my own hands. And Dumbledore and Snape can go bugger themselves._

Reaching into her bag, she withdrew the piece of parchment on which she had written the prophecy. She stared down at it, focusing on each little bit individually. "The dark lord now holds the key to his own demise," she whispered.  _That was when I was being tortured. The first time,_  she amended.  _That would seem to make me the key._ "The one who has been taken will be released, but free no more."  _That is definitely me, which begs the question of whether or not the 'key' is as well._  "He who holds her chains shall have the key."  _Well that's Snape. What does he have that I would have had when I was with the dark lord? Unless it really is me._  "Unlock Victory and she shall be free."  _So this key unlocks victory. Unlocking victory is the key to the dark lord's demise. And that frees me. It's just a circle. But what does it mean?_

Well, it certainly meant one thing, she realized. She and Snape were in this together, whether they liked it or not. Hermione let her head fall back against the wall behind her.  _Oh gods, what the bloody hell am I supposed to do?_

Hermione withdrew Snape's Incantation text. She couldn't help the feeling that everything she had been studying was somehow important. And she was determined to create this spell. According to the text, wand movement for a spell encompassing a large space should be broad and raised high, even above the head. But every attempt she had made so far was completely futile. It wasn't that anything had gone wrong, exactly. It was, very simply, that nothing was happening at all.

Finally she was forced to give up for the time being, slamming her book shut in anger and wiping tears of frustration from her face. She was determined. She would find a way.

* * *

"Severus!" called the voice of Lucius Malfoy as the dark professor made his way toward the blond. He had been surprised to be invited so soon after requesting a meeting, but then, his old friend was in desperate need of company. Playing host to the dark lord was draining Lucius of his youthful energy. The weary way he walked was proof enough of that. "It's wonderful to see you, old friend."

"Thank you for responding so promptly," Severus replied.

"I am always eager for a visit with a good friend." Lucius smiled elegantly, but it did not quite reach his eyes. "Please, join me in the study." They settled themselves before a familiar fireplace in the exquisite Malfoy study. So much of Severus's life had taken place under this roof, he reflected. He accepted a glass of brandy with a polite nod and toasted to the dark lord, as was customary.

"You look tired, Lucius," Severus observed. The blond man sighed wearily and warded the doors.

"It is a great honor to give my home to the Greater Cause, but I admit it does grow tiresome."

"You are unable to leave your work at work, so-to-speak." Lucius grunted in the affirmative. "As a professor, I know what a burden that can be." He hesitated. "Of course, the devil in residence there is a bit less… threatening." Lucius sighed deeply, relaxing a bit with the openness of the conversation.

"Narcissa feels it too," he admitted. "We have been quarreling." Severus took a sip of his drink, a signal that he was listening. "She keeps begging me to return to the way we were.  _Before_. But what can I do? And I love Narcissa, but I can't just…" he groaned in frustration, taking a swig of brandy. "She won't sleep with me." Lucius was pouting, which Severus knew was his response to powerlessness.

"That must be very difficult for you," he comforted. Lucius lived for sympathizers.

"It's one thing for her to be angry, but I know she won't leave me. And one day, I know that things will be better. But right now, with all of the stress and worries, I really just want some  _relief_. And you know I cannot be unfaithful." The Malfoys were one of the few pureblood couples traditional enough to choose such a strict marriage contract. "There are only so many times a man can watch artless sex and still enjoy it. I'm bored with the revels." His eyes came up to meet Severus's. "Of course, I did enjoy your little show. But then, you are far more refined than the rest of that filth." Severus took a long sip of his drink; his eyes on Lucius. There was no way Lucius could persuade him to bring Granger to another revel. Albus would just have to find another way if that was the price. "I know how you feel about the revels, Severus. But what if you were to bring the girl here? Just the three of us? I promise not to touch."

"No." His answer was definite. He would not be swayed.

"Come now, Severus. What difference would it make?" Severus considered this, his mind searching desperately.

"The girl is far more… responsive… without an audience," he replied. "I do not enjoy fucking her when she is… distracted." Lucius nodded solemnly. He understood. After all, as Severus was very aware, Narcissa Black had been very much the same way.

"Surely there must be something you want, Severus. Or else, why did you come here?" So that was how it was going to be.

"It is nothing of particular importance or urgency," he drawled evenly in a bored tone. Lucius may have taught him the art of subtlety, but Severus had perfected it. "I merely wanted to inquire about your influence in the Ministry; in particular, the Department of Magical Transportation."

"Did you?" Lucius smirked. "And what interest do you have in that department?" Severus hesitated.

"Suffice to say that I am working on a little project and access to that department would be rather… convenient."

"Full access could be easily arranged," the blond man sneered, "if you have something to offer me in return." Severus kept his eyes trained on the pale wizard. Lucius was very stubborn. He would not relent, and Severus would have no choice.

"What can I offer you, Lucius?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Oh, I think you know, Severus." The dark wizard sipped at his brandy, considering his friend. "Come now, Severus. I am a desperate man. You needn't even bring her here, if you are concerned about upsetting her. Charm a mirror on your wall and she will never have to know."  _Check._  Severus downed his glass and stood to leave.

"I will consider it," he replied.

* * *

It was Friday night in the Gryffindor Common Room and all around the sounds of games and laughing filled the air. But over in one corner, four students were sulking, oblivious to the happy atmosphere surrounding them. Ginny rubbed Harry's shoulders as he launched into another round of Snape-hating. The incident in class that morning had really set him off.

"He's only getting worse!" he growled, careful to keep his voice low, conspiratorial. "I can't believe Dumbledore actually let him teach Defense! I don't care if there wasn't anybody else who could do it.  _Anybody_  would've been better than that git! And this is the year we need to practice the  _most!_  I'm telling you, Voldemort probably made sure there were no other candidates, so Snape  _had_  to be chosen. Now he's going to make sure we don't learn anything so that when the war begins, we'll all be defenseless."

Hermione pulled herself away from her Incantation text to glare at the boy. "Harry, Snape is Dumbledore's man. And he's far more experienced fighting Death Eaters than any of us. Really, we couldn't have hoped for a better Defense teacher…"

"Then why has Dumbledore refused to give him the position for 16 years!?" Hermione huffed.

"Well, perhaps he couldn't find an adequate Potions teacher. Or maybe the position really  _is_  cursed and he couldn't afford to lose Snape."

"Oh sure, and that's suddenly changed this year?" Hermione blinked at the boy. He could have a point. If the position was cursed, as everyone believed it was, giving Snape the position would mean that Dumbledore had accepted that he might not make it to the end of the year. Her chest tightened at that thought, but she was soon brought back to the present by Harry's voice. "And anyway, if Dumbledore really had a good reason to trust Snape, he ought to at least tell  _us_. I mean I'm the Chosen One, for Merlin's sake! Everything is resting on my shoulders! Not Dumbledore's, not Snape's; mine. So I ought to know a bit more about what's going on!"

Anger surged through Hermione at these words. The boy didn't know what he was talking about. "Harry," she began in a stern tone, "there are a  _lot_  of people involved in this war. It isn't  _just_  you. Professor Snape risks his life all the time for the Order. And I'm sure Dumbledore knows what he's doing. After all, he's considered one of the most brilliant wizards of our time. He's the only one Voldemort is afraid of. So, I think he knows a bit more about it than you do."

"Well then why doesn't he  _tell_  me!?" the boy whined.

"Oh, I don't know, Harry! Maybe it's because it isn't all about you! Maybe it's because you won't even  _try_  to learn Occlumency! Maybe it's because if Voldemort ever saw into your mind, he'd already know enough to incriminate _Professor Snape_ , and Dumbledore doesn't want you to know any more sensitive information until you know how to keep it a secret!" The other three gazed down at Hermione in horror. Though her tone had been hushed, the vitriol in her voice had been caustic, and they looked a little afraid. "Aghh!" she growled angrily before stuffing her books back into her bag and heading toward the Portrait Hole. She needed to leave before she said anything she wasn't supposed to.

Hermione stalked the halls angrily as she considered her position. It wasn't her fault she was all alone. She had been caged in. All of the Slytherins knew her secrets and were able to use them against her, but she couldn't even turn to her own friends for comfort because if Voldemort ever found out that Harry  _knew_  she was supposed to be a spy, she and Professor Snape would both be killed. "BAH!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. And then, she didn't even know everything about her own situation. They hadn't  _bothered_  to tell her about the prophecy, so what else  _didn't_  she know? Well, there was only one man who could answer those questions, and she wouldn't let her fear stop her from confronting him.

* * *

Severus paced the length of his office. He knew Albus was waiting for an answer, but he couldn't bring himself to go behind Granger's back like that. Not right now.  _I should talk to her first_ , he thought. Albus be damned. But did that mean that he was allowing his own emotions to cloud his judgment? Was he getting soft?

There was a knock at his door. Well, actually, it was more like a banging. That could only be one person, and Severus wondered if perhaps it was a sign. "Come in," he called and the door was yanked open to reveal one very angry Hermione Granger. He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Miss Granger?" The door slammed behind her as she strode toward him.

"You're a right git, you know that?" Severus did not respond. "You have effectively cut me off from  _everyone!_  All of your Slytherins know about us and you only goad them on! Whose side are you on, anyway!?" Severus started to answer, but she cut him off. "And then, when you've made me a complete fool in front of a bunch of students who have already seen me humiliated, I can't even talk to my friends about it! Now you throw this prophecy into the mix, adding a  _huge_  burden onto my shoulders that I never even knew about because you  _couldn't find the time!_  Well I'm  _sick_  of being a pawn in this game! If that prophecy is true, I'm a hell of a lot more important than that, and I deserve to be treated that way! And what's more, you're supposed to be on my  _team!_  We're supposed to work  _together!_  But you're too busy flattering the bloody Slytherins and  _attacking_  my friends! And Ron! You can stop trying to kill him because I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH THAT REHEADED TWIT!"

She was panting, her hair frizzed, her cheeks red, her eyes lit with fire. She was beautiful. "The memory you saw…," she continued in a softer voice, "That was from the night I was drunk. You asked me who I was running from. It was him." Severus was frozen to the spot. Could it be true? She didn't care about the boy? He was afraid to believe her. And also, she had hit on a harsh truth that he hadn't wanted to admit: he was jealous of the boy. How was he supposed to respond to that without admitting that he had feelings for her?

"Why are you telling me this, Granger?" She sighed in exasperation and glared up at him.

"We're a team, Professor. Whether we like it or not. We shouldn't keep secrets from each other." That answer rather unnerved him. She wanted him to confide in her. For too long he had balanced on the edge of truth and lies between two masters. And now, a third person demanded that he keep no secrets. But Granger wasn't threatening. She wasn't demanding. She was only asking. And, he realized with a jolt, she was giving him her trust again, albeit grudgingly. He cleared his throat.

"Miss Granger, I have thought a lot about... this… since I saw you last night. And I realize now that I should have told you about the prophecy much earlier. I—" he wasn't sure what else to say, "I will endeavor to inform you of any new developments that pertain to us." At that pronouncement, the anger in her face faded away and tears began to form in her eyes. She brought her hands up to her face, furiously attempting to stop the flow of tears, and he heard her sob.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, regaining a bit of her composure. "I just—I've just felt so alone." Unsure how to respond to that, Severus cleared his throat.

"As it happens," he began hesitantly, "There has been a new development." The girl's eyes grew wide and he gestured for her to sit before taking his own seat behind the desk. "I have been to see Lucius," he admitted. The color seemed to drain out of her complexion at that. "I suppose you remember the Headmaster's request?" She nodded and he swallowed before continuing. "I have not been to see Albus, but I thought it would be better to speak to you about this first. As—" he hesitated, monitoring her reactions. "As it pertains to you."

"What does he want?" she asked, and her voice was breathless with fear. More than anything, he wanted to shield her from it all; the war, the Death Eaters, Albus. But he could not. They were in a war, and she was an important part of it. He sighed in resignation.

"Lucius is a complex man. His priorities are not always easy to understand."

"Just tell me, Professor," she pleaded. His brow furrowed, but he replied.

"He wants… to watch." She frowned. " _Us_ ," he clarified, and he could see the comprehension dawning in her delicate features. Her breathing was coming faster and her knuckles were white where her hands grasped her knees. Severus feared she might begin to cry again. "It would not be like the other times. We would remain here, at the castle. Lucius would only see through means of a mirror."

"Why?" she whimpered.

"Lucius and his wife have been fighting. He is bound by their marriage contract not to be unfaithful to her, but he continually seeks new ways of…  _satisfying_  himself." A small sound somewhere between a hiccup and a laugh emitted from her at this.

"No. I mean  _why_  would you use a mirror?" Severus blinked, feeling a dull heat begin to creep up his neck from embarrassment.

"Oh, well mirrors make for powerful magical objects." He cleared his throat. "That is, with a charm similar to the Protean charm on our rings, I can make one mirror show what another reflects." The girl's curiosity was inexplicably piqued at this.  _Of course._  For Granger, knowledge would always win out over anything else.

"Fascinating. Why do you say that mirrors make for powerful magical objects?" she said, ripping a bit of parchment from her bag and boldly reaching for his quill. He quirked a lip at that.

"Well, I suppose it's because they are made from silver. Silver has always been known for its power. Even muggles have recognized its antimicrobial properties. They've used it to purify water and cleanse wounds for centuries. Close your mouth, Granger. You look like a dying fish." The girl was gaping up at him in disbelief, and he was sure he hadn't said anything that spectacular.

" _Silver_  was used to heal  _wounds?_ "

"Well, cleanse, yes. Why?" Suddenly the girl was scribbling furiously at her parchment and Severus's curiosity was piqued. "Miss Granger, is there something you aren't telling me?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing, Professor. Just some research I've been working on." Then her head snapped up. "I'm not having any luck with my new spell," she admitted. He raised an eyebrow in disdain. "Do you think…" she began hesitantly. "That is, do you think… maybe… that you could help me with it?" He hesitated.

"I will consider it," he answered finally. Her face lit up in a beautiful smile and he reacted in several confusing ways at once. It was wonderful to see her recovering, but it made him uncomfortable when she looked at him like that. And at the same time, it caused a fire deep inside of him. The kind of fire that made him want to take her into his chambers right now.

"Thank you, Professor," she replied cheerfully, standing to leave. She was halfway to the door when he called her back.

"Granger," he barked. She turned her trusting eyes to his. "I was not planning to talk to the Headmaster until I received an answer from you." Her smile fell and her expression became serious. It pained him to see her brought down. "If you decide not to go along with Lucius's request, I will tell the Headmaster that he must find another way." The girl smiled a bit at that.

"May I think about it?" she asked. The look in her eyes was so hopeful; so full of life and energy. He had not seen that in her eyes in far too long.

"Yes, Granger, you may."

* * *

Hermione stared up at the ceiling above her four-poster bed, deep in contemplation. Long gone were thoughts of silver and wounds and Albedo. For the moment, she thought only of her professor. In his presence, she always felt so safe and comforted.  _Could I sleep with him again? For the Greater Cause?_  It was her duty, she supposed. She sighed. Her experiences so far had been traumatic, certainly. And yet, seeing the harsher side of him lately made her realize just how gentle he had been toward her then. By Snape standards, he'd been positively sweet.

She closed her eyes.  _Does he want to sleep with me?_  It was a silly question to be asking herself, really. This was war, and they were just doing what they needed to do, after all. And yet, it stirred a heat inside of her to think that he might  _want_  to do it again. She remembered the way his eyes had travelled down her body, taking in every curve with a greedy stare. A tiny moan escaped her lips at the thought.

Then she pictured him above her, moving against her, the dark lust evident in his inky gaze. It made her heartbeat hasten and her breathing become shallow and slow. Her back arched against the mattress as she remembered the way he had growled when he came inside of her. Just after whispering ' _Forgive me.'_  Forgive him for what? It wasn't his fault, after all. And yet, he clearly felt guilty. Could that be because he secretly  _wanted_  it? She gasped as the thought made something tighten deep inside of her. She was tense in a relaxed way as she imagined the way her professor's hands had travelled across her body. Would he do that to her again? Did he want to?  _Does he think about it when he's alone?_  She groaned aloud.  _Merlin_ , she realized,  _I do want to._

* * *

All the way on the other side of the castle, deep in the dungeons beside the Black Lake, Severus Snape stretched out between his sheets.  _Soon,_  he thought,  _she might be here beside me._  A graceful hand snaked down beneath the bedsheets to relieve the mounting tension there. She had not seemed so afraid, he realized, when he had asked her for her answer. Perhaps… maybe… she could even enjoy it.

He closed his eyes, picturing that smile upon her lips; those full, red lips. He wondered what they would taste like; how they would feel against his own mouth.  _Would she let me kiss her?_ Severus knew that if she agreed, she would go along with anything he wanted her to do. Even if she was not compelled.

He thought of the feel of her wild, beautiful hair between his fingers. How he longed to press his face into those curls, deep inside of her. Her firm, full breasts; soft beneath his palm; the skin pulled taught by her rosy, little nipples. And how would those little buds feel against his tongue? Would she cry out in pleasure at his touch? Severus groaned to think that she might.

He pictured the admiration in her eyes, her shoulders bare, her hair mussed with sleep. How desperate he was to see it mussed with his lovemaking instead. This time, he would have an excuse. Lucius was an aesthetic; a sensualist. And Severus would give him exactly what he wanted.  _If she agrees._

If she agreed, he would press his body against hers. He would kiss her neck and cup her breast and tease her with his aching member long before he allowed himself to enter her. And when he finally did, she would be so  _wet_. Severus was pumping his hand enthusiastically along the throbbing length of his erection. He was so close. He pictured the way she would come to him, in a nightgown. And he would thrust her into the mattress until she cried out with pleasure. Then, and only then, would he find his own release. In his mind, he replayed the memory of that little smile she had given him that very first time, the way she had brushed his hair from his face, the lust he had seen in her eyes. And he came with a primal groan as wave after wave rushed through his body. And as he came down, he remembered the image of himself in her memory and the emotions she had felt. Affection. And he relaxed into the sheets as a small smile spread across his face.

_She doesn't love him._


	21. Chapter 21

Hermione kept glancing up to the Head Table during breakfast the next morning. A certain Defense Professor was watching the hall like some sort of dark guardian. She wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but somewhere between being forced to sleep with Snape and having him save her life repeatedly, she had developed a strange attraction to the man. She had read before that a woman can develop an emotional bond to a man purely because of the hormones involved in sexual intercourse, but she wasn't sure that was the case here. Part of it was certainly the fact that he was the only one she could turn to, and his presence, therefore, brought her a measure of comfort. But that wasn't all.

Spending time with someone as intellectual as herself was a novel experience for Hermione, and she greatly admired her professor for his intelligence and dedication to the Cause. He was powerful and intense and overwhelming in a way that challenged her to react; to show that she was not afraid. And part of it was just that she had never thought of Professor Snape, the 'Bat of the Dungeons,' the 'Greasy Git,' as anything more than a grumpy teacher. But she had seen a side of him, a tenderness as well as a need, that no one else had seen. And the more she saw, the more she craved.

When her professor swept from the hall a little while later, she found herself compelled to follow him, shouting back to the boys that she would meet them on the Quidditch pitch. "Professor!" she called when she reached the Entrance Hall and saw him heading toward the dungeons. He spun around, his robes billowing around him, and fixed a harsh scowl on his face at the sight of her. But Hermione wasn't discouraged. She knew it was only an act. "I just wanted to tell you," she continued in a lower voice when she was close enough for him to hear, "that I have decided to go along with what you asked." Her professor did not move, nor was there any discernible change in his appearance, but the darkness in his eyes seemed to suddenly overwhelm her. A fire traced across her skin and down her spine and through her core until she felt a familiar tightness low in her belly.

"Very well," he said simply, his voice a deep growl that reverberated deep inside of her. And with that, he left her in a billow of dark robes. She stood there for a moment, frozen in place, her cheeks hot in a pleasant way. When she moved, she had to shake out the sudden stiffness in her joints. And she was deep in thought as she headed to the Quidditch field.

The tryouts were a blur of flying Gryffindors and half-hearted cheers. Harry was still mad at her, so she wanted to make it up to him, but Quidditch had never held any interest for her. Of course she wanted her friends to make the team, but was there really any question of that? Now that Ron had found his confidence, there was no stopping him from stopping the Quaffle. And Ginny was a shoe-in.

When it was all over, the four friends decided to make the best of the beautiful day and head down to the lake. Harry still wasn't making eye contact with her. "Harry," she began finally, "Please don't be this way. I'm really really sorry for yelling at you last night. I've just… had a really rough time and… I just… was upset is all. I shouldn't have taken it out on you." The dark-haired boy considered her for a moment. The fact that she had been right hung in the air between them, but Harry's wounded pride had been assuaged and she knew that he had taken her seriously. There was no need for them to fight. So she watched a small smile spread across the boy's face.

"It's alright, Hermione. I guess I was being a bit of a prat." She smiled back at him, letting her relief out in one swift breath. Then Ron threw an arm over each of their shoulders and they continued down toward the Black Lake. The sun beat down upon them as they stretched out on the grass and for a moment, it was as if everything was right with the world.

* * *

A little ways from the Golden Trio, where the lake touched the castle, behind a wall of ivy that draped into the water to hide the dock where the little boats were kept, stood Severus Snape. This was his apparition point; a place that no one ever seemed to remember, despite the fact that all students were brought here on the little boats when they came to the castle their very first year. From his vantage point beside the wall, he could see through the ivy; could watch  _Potter_  and his little gang as they frolicked happily beside the water. And there was  _Granger_ , sitting closest to him. From here he could see the carefree smile touching her supple lips as Weasley whispered in her ear. It had not occurred to him to doubt her assertion that she did not care for the boy because she didn't seem to have any reason to lie about that. And yet, watching her now, he was not so sure.

Either way, he would have her tonight. Lucius had been insistent that there could be no excuse on a Saturday. "And Severus," he had warned, "It better be good."  _Oh, it will be,_  the dark wizard thought.  _I'll make sure of that._ Withdrawing his wand, Severus removed the Disillusionment Charm from the ring on his finger and carved a message into the gold.

* * *

Hermione felt a sudden warmth around the second-to-last finger of her right hand and ripped her hand away before remembering the ring. Luckily, the boys were completely oblivious to this blunder and she stealthily withdrew her wand. Holding it in her left hand felt awkward and she suddenly realized why Snape had put his on his left. Hesitantly, she switched her own to the left hand as well, before removing the Disillusionment.  _10 PM Tonight_ , it said and she felt a sudden surge of nervous excitement.

* * *

Severus watched the girl's face as she read his message. The alarm was apparent, but it was not alone. A blush tinged her cheeks and a secret smile graced her lips; a smile he had seen before. It sent a pang of longing through his body and Severus had half a mind to call her to his rooms  _right now._  But then Granger was standing, saying something to her friends, and hurrying toward the castle. Hope welled up inside of him before he could suppress it. Was she running to talk to him?  _Don't be ridiculous. There are a thousand other explanations._ And as Severus headed down a passageway so secret that not even the Weasley Twins knew about it, he forced himself to walk slowly. There would be no one waiting for him when he returned to his office.

And yet, after following the trail to where it ended inside his bedroom, and slipping through his chambers to enter his office, he was still a bit disappointed to find that his wards had not been touched. No one had been to see if he was in. Severus quelled the little knot of emotion inside of him with a bout of self-loathing.  _Miserable fool! Pining after schoolgirls! Pathetic._

And then there was a knock, and he couldn't help the flair of elation in his chest as he sat behind his desk and beckoned for the visitor to enter. Despite himself, he felt another throb of his heart when the face of Hermione Granger appeared in his doorway.  _Ridiculous fool!_  "Good afternoon, Miss Granger." She beamed up at him and Severus had to swallow. When was the last time someone looked at him like that?

"Good afternoon, Professor," the girl chimed as she boldly seated herself in the chair before his desk. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I know you're probably busy, but I was wondering if you had an answer for me. About the spell I'm creating." He leaned back in his chair, considering her.

"Very well, Granger. Why don't you show me what you have so far." There was that damnable smile again. She pulled out his Incantation text and some parchment and set her bag aside.

"Well, what I'm hoping to do is create a spell that will point out any books in a room that contain a particular word."

"And how will it do that?" She wrinkled her brow.

"Well… that's what I'm… I mean I know it's possible to create a spell that fills a large space like that…"

"No, Granger.  _How_  will this spell  _mark_  the books?"

"Oh, well, I'm not really sure, I—"

"You have to  _know_ , Granger. You have to be able to picture  _exactly_  what is going to happen." She blinked at him. "May I make a suggestion?" She nodded, wide-eyed. "If I were you, I would create a spell that would cause the tip of my wand to glow when it passed a book that contained a particular word. That way, it wouldn't get in everyone else's way if you were in a library doing research—as Merlin knows you always are." She blinked up at him before turning to scribble furiously on her parchment. "Do you have an Incantation chosen?"

"Yes, sir.  _Quaero Verbum._ It means…"

"'I search for a word.' Yes. But it is far more effective when the Incantation is in the form of a command. Can you think of a command that would suit your Intent?" He watched as the girl closed her eyes, her brow wrinkling.

"Like, perhaps 'show me the word'?" she asked. "That is, if I were to ask the books to reveal the word in its context on their spines, or glowing in the air before them? Like a muggle internet search?"

"I think you're onto something, Granger," he praised. She smiled brilliantly up at him.

"How would I say that?"

"Well, that would depend on whether you wish to direct the command to the wand or to the books. Latin commands differ in their singular and plural forms. If you wished to command the books, you would say 'ostendite verbum,' and if you wished to command the wand—which I think may be more suited to your Intent—you would say 'ostende verbum,' which sounds more fluid to me anyway."

"Ostende verbum," she whispered, and he was secretly pleased that she had taken his suggestion without a second thought. "I will have to completely change the wand movements," she added as an afterthought. He smirked at her. Immediately, the large tome flew open as she riffled through the pages, searching for the correct entry. "A spell directed at one's own wand typically requires a little flick," she murmured. "But this one is more complex and has a longer Incantation. Perhaps a steady side-to-side motion? As if in search?" She was not exactly asking him, but he answered anyway.

"You will need to reread that section before you decide. Also, spell creation requires a long period of meditation. Before you can test it, you have to spend a long time blending the Three in your mind. Concentrate on your Intent. Say the words in your mind until they mean the same to you. And imagine the way your wand will move. You can even move your empty hand as if it were your wand, if you find that that aids in your concentration. Do this and return here tomorrow. We will practice then."

* * *

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione murmured, smiling up at him.

She had begun gathering her things in preparation to leave when Snape cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, I thought we ought to discuss… our plans for tonight." Her eyes grew wide and she sat back down, focusing her attention on her professor as heat spread across the surface of her skin. "I don't want to go in blind, like last time." Hermione turned pink and nodded vehemently. He cleared his throat again, obviously avoiding her gaze. "First of all, you will need to pretend that no one is watching. And also…" he hesitated. "When I was attempting to dissuade Lucius of his request, I—I did so by explaining that I… didn't like it when you were nervous. I… may have… given him the impression… that you are more…  _responsive…_ when we are alone."

Hermione blushed as her entire body seemed to tighten around that idea. Heat pulsed from deep inside of her and she nodded bravely, unsure exactly what that would entail. "I have already placed the Charm on a large mirror that hangs above my dresser," he continued. "I can turn it on and off, if you will, at any time. He will be able to see, but not hear. I will attempt not to issue commands, but I might give the illusion of doing so." Hermione nodded, not wanting to trust her voice. The last thing she needed was for him to know how his words were affecting her. "Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir," she managed.

"Good. Then I will call you at ten. Make sure you are alone."

"I will," she assured him as she stood to leave.

"And Granger?" he called back before she reached the door. She turned to look at him and his eyes were dark with intensity. His velvet baritone resonated low inside of her, stirring the fire within. "Wear that nightgown."

* * *

Severus paced the length of his room again; his robes still billowing around him.  _Should I undress?_  he wondered. The girl would be in a nightgown; he needn't bare himself entirely. But he probably shouldn't have his robes on, either. He removed the black garment and studied his reflection in the mirror. And then he decided to absolutely avoid looking at the mirror at all costs.  _Granger must be completely repulsed by me. What am I thinking?_  He paused a minute before removing his frock coat and dragon-hide boots.

A glance at the clock on the wall told Severus that it was nearly ten.  _Oh, Merlin_. Anxiety warred with excitement and Severus wasn't sure which emotion was stronger.  _Breathe_ , he told himself. Closing his eyes, he thought of the way the girl had smiled at him today—vivid, happy,  _sincere_. She might not be keen on sleeping with him— _yet_ , he clarified with a smirk—but somehow she had grown to  _like_  him. It was a strange concept, to be sure, but Severus was certain that it was, nevertheless, true. He turned toward the clock.  _Five minutes._  A knot of anticipation tightened in his throat as he climbed onto the bed, sitting against the headboard and leaning against his knees.  _Should I pull down the duvet?_ He waited a moment before deciding that that would indeed be better, and removed the heavy coverlet before returning to his place against the pillows.  _Two minutes_.

At precisely 10 o'clock PM, Severus activated the Charm on the mirror and brought the tip of his wand to the skin of his left arm.

* * *

Hermione had been shut away inside her four-poster bed for ten minutes, feeling rather foolish as she sat against the headboard in her flimsy nightgown. 9:58. Suddenly the anxious nervousness she had been suppressing flooded Hermione's senses.  _Oh, Merlin_. She wasn't even worried about Lucius Malfoy watching through a mirror. After everything she had been through, that was nothing. But the thought of  _him_  touching her again sent shivers down her spine.  _Oh, gods._  Over everything else, she just didn't want to make a fool of herself. She wanted to please him.

9:59.  _Oh dear bloody sodding Merlin. Any minute now._  She watched as the seconds on the clock ticked away, conscious of the fact that her clock could easily be set differently from his. The second hand inched closer and closer to the twelve. Three, two, one… And then it was past, heading toward the five. And she felt her stomach drop in disappointment just in time for the familiar tug to yank her from her four-poster.

When she landed—with a squeal—she was in the same position she had been, sitting on a mattress. An extra set of legs stretched out on either side of her. And her pulse began to race as an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her back against him.  _Oh, Merlin_. This was Professor Snape; a powerful wizard; a man with a dark past; a brilliant Potions Master. And there was so much more to him that he would probably never share with her. But at the moment,  _she_ was the focus of his attention.

"Very good, Miss Granger," he purred. Her heart leapt in her chest and her blood stirred with a carnal fire that she had never known before this man. His right hand splayed across her stomach as the other came up to clutch her chin. He gently turned her face towards him, forcing her eyes to meet his. Those intense, black eyes.

Severus was unsure where to start. Her mere presence between his legs was enough to make him strain against the fabric of his trousers. He lifted her face to his, looking down into her worried, cinnamon eyes. She didn't know what to do. But she trusted him to do it. A surge of possessiveness swept over him; primal; hungry.  _Mine_ , he thought. And technically, that was true. She was his. Slowly, the hand cupping her cheek swept down her pale neck; the neck of a swan. He paused to run a thumb over her pulse, reveling in the trust she showed to allow his hand to circle her throat.

Then his hand drifted further south, running along the exposed collarbone with a gentle touch before dipping to cover her breast. He bit back a groan. Though he had fondled her before, he had never had the chance to enjoy it. Now, as he cupped her through the sheer material, he watched her face lose concentration. Those eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted slightly. He throbbed painfully as he resisted the urge to roll over on top of her and press her hard into the sheets.

As her professor's hand massaged her breast, Hermione felt a thrum of heady energy pulsing through her body.  _He likes the way I feel_. Snape pinched her nipple and she cried out in shock and pleasure. The electric twinge it brought about was echoed between her legs. Then his other hand was travelling down, brushing over that sensitive place, across the folds of her nightgown, and down her legs. He reached the hem of the garment and pressed his palm to the hot surface of her skin.

Severus molded his hand to the girl's sweet thigh, reveling in the sensation of smooth skin beneath his fingers. Slowly, teasingly, he pulled his hand up toward the junction of her legs. His fingers snaked down between her thighs to caress the tender skin he found there. She opened her legs wider for him, forcing a groan from his lips as he teased the seams of her little panties.

She could feel his fingers sliding along the edge of the garment that separated them. It all seemed so completely forbidden; so deliciously wicked. She knew that he wanted to touch her there as much as she wanted him to. And as he slipped one forefinger past the boundary of her simple, cotton panties, she couldn't suppress a whimper of need. The fire inside of her was nearly unbearable and she could feel her professor's erection pressing into her back.

His control was fighting him every step of the way as Severus traced the crease between her folds. Her little moan of pleasure was practically his undoing, but he was satisfied to merely grip her tighter and press his lips against her ear. He eased his way inside, running the length of her wet entrance before teasing the little nub he found hidden there. "Ohh!" she cried and he growled into her ear. Then his thumb continued to brush against her there as his fingers travelled south. Gently, carefully, he eased one inside of her. "Ohhhh!" she cried. "Oh,  _Merlin_ , Professor!" And it was all he could do to remain as he was and not take her then and there.

He was making love to her with his hands. The soft, intimate pressure of his touch coiled knots of fire deep inside of her. But his rhythm was too slow; teasing her. Without even thinking about what she was doing, Hermione grabbed his hand and began to move against him, pressing her body against his fingers.

When the chit began to buck beneath him, Severus couldn't stand it anymore. In one swift move, he flipped them over so that he was crushing her into the mattress, his fingers still sliding in and out of her. Her cry of surprise became a throaty moan as he pressed against her. Severus lifted her nightgown above her waist, bringing a hand to her pretty arse and pressing hard against her. Through his trousers, his member nestled between her cheeks as he thrust against her. His mouth came to her neck and he brushed against the tender skin there, tasting the salt of her sweat.

"Please Professor," she cried. His weight was crushing her into the mattress and it made a heavy ache form between her legs. And she knew only  _he_  could relieve her. He pulled away from her just then and she turned to see him sitting against the headboard, panting.

"Come," he beckoned. It was a command, but she grinned as she complied, straddling his lap and looking into those dark eyes. He was so close. She could see into the inky blackness, where there was fire.  _This man_ , she thought.  _This man is incredible. And he wants you._  She groaned and moved against him, seeking to relieve that ache he had created. His hands came up to grasp her hips and he slowly lifted the nightgown over her head.

She was a wild temptress in his mind. That wild mane of hair, her cinnamon eyes shining with fire, swollen lips parted in desperation, her complexion flushed. His eyes raked over her body and her passion only grew as she watched him. Severus sunk down against the bed, reaching up to grasp her pert breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. She threw her head back in a primal moan and Severus could feel himself pulsing with need. In one sweep of his hand, her panties were gone and he had his first glimpse of her shyness.

Hermione felt so exposed sitting astride her professor completely nude while he was still fully dressed. Inspired, she boldly snuck her hands down to his shirt and began to unbutton it. He allowed it, his eyes pressing closed against his need. Slowly, slowly she bared his torso to her eyes.

It was only fair, he supposed, that he should undress too. But he felt so vulnerable, allowing her to scrutinize his scarred and imperfect flesh. But when his eyes met hers, he saw only desire, and his hands came up to twist in those curls, unconsciously pulling her down to him.

He was pulling her down and she watched his mouth as she drew nearer.  _Does he want to kiss me?_  Hermione wasn't sure. But then his hands were gone from her hair and he sat up to press his torso against hers. Her nipples brushed against the thin, dark hairs of his chest and she wrapped her arms around his neck. His hands were tracing circles on her back and their faces seemed to hang in suspended animation inches away from each other. Her mind was made up and she looked into his eyes, showing him her resolve as she inched toward him.

And suddenly her mouth was on his. And his lips were a lot softer than she had imagined. And he groaned deep in his throat, wrapping a hand in her hair and pressing ardently against her. Their lips brushed and slid over each other in a tantalizing dance that left her breathless for what was to come. When his tongue teased her lip, she opened her mouth to admit him, meeting his with her own soft tongue.

Severus groaned. Her mouth was so sweet and so soft. He wanted to devour her completely until he was satiated. But he knew he never would be. Not when there was more of this to be had. And that was fine. He slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, caressing her, as she began to move against him once more. His hand snaked down between them, unbuttoning his trousers and she gasped in apparent arousal.

When he was naked, the girl further surprised him by positioning herself so that his hard length pressed between her folds. She leaned over him, pressing against him with growing enthusiasm as his hands travelled across the surface of her skin.

Hermione had never felt anything like this. She was compelled to move against him, unashamed of this animal side of her that was bursting forth. Her professor seemed to like it, and that was really all that mattered. The soft head of his stone-hard member was sliding against the little nub between her folds in just the right way and she panted as she rocked her body against his. A pressure was mounting inside of her with a fiery shock of electricity that gave her glimpses of the pleasure to come. For too long she had wanted this. Too long she had cared about this man; admired him; desired him. And now she was aware of just what that desire was.

She caught his gaze, latching onto those dark orbs as he watched her. Then, his hands gripped her thighs and he thrust up against her. The movement so shocked and aroused her that she felt herself rising to the brink of this sensation. Her movements became quick and erratic and her hand came up to brush his jaw as she locked her watering eyes onto his and breached the cusp of the pressure inside of her. A wave of powerful pleasure crashed over her and she cried out with wanton abandon as surge after surge of intense sensation pulsed through her until even her toes were trembling with the strength of her release. And as tears traced down her cheeks, she pressed her lips passionately against his.

It took all of Severus's control to wait for the waves of her orgasm to cease before rolling them over. He held her mouth hostage as they flipped, capturing her lips, pressing harder and deeper. And she allowed him with a moan. As he rubbed the tip of his aching cock between her folds, she gasped against him, tears rolling down her face. "Oh, yes, Professor!" she moaned desperately, rising to meet him eagerly. He didn't need any more encouragement. Pressing against her opening, he sheathed himself entirely inside of her with a deep groan of intense pleasure.

He was beyond his own control, but she was writhing beneath him in agonized ecstasy and he found himself pressing harder and deeper inside of her. When her legs came up to wrap around his waist, he snapped. Wrapping his arms around her and pressing his face into her hair he pounded into her a few swift times before bursting inside of her, the tightness within him exploding in a fit of intense release as he pressed his mouth against the soft skin where her neck became her shoulder, muffling a coarse, irrepressible groan. Her arms came up around him as he panted against her neck and she pressed wet kisses to his forehead in a gesture of affection. He pulled himself up and met her eyes before brushing his lips against hers once again. And the soft wetness of their lovemaking made their kiss all the sweeter. Severus pulled away, brushing his mouth against her chest and each of her breasts before moving off of her.

Hermione couldn't stop the tears. The other times, tears had been ripped from her by force. But this time, the tears were beautiful, like a light shower after a storm. They seemed to wring the last bit of tension and anxiety from her body, leaving her sated and exhausted. When her professor pulled away, Hermione felt the loss, but did not feel an absence. He was there beside her, and they had just made love. She turned onto her side, smiling at Snape's profile as he panted toward the ceiling. When his face turned to hers, she could not read his expression. But something told her that beneath the layer of pretend, she mattered to him.

And she couldn't have asked for anything more.


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione gazed down at the sleeping man in bed beside her. After cancelling the Charm on the mirror, her professor had promptly fallen straight to sleep. His sated, exhausted visage was so peaceful—at odds with Snape's usual expressions—and she felt somehow that putting him to sleep was more of a victory than making him come.  _Victory_. If only that were the victory that would free her of this curse. Although, she had to admit, her  _curse_  wasn't such a terrible thing at the moment.

Hermione reluctantly tore her eyes from the face of her sleeping professor and looked around the room. She had not had much time to study her surroundings earlier. Other matters had been more… pressing. A tiny smile spread across her face as she took in the details of Snape's bedroom. The plain furniture, the lack of decorations, the rumpled duvet lying on the floor at the foot of the bed, and the entire wall behind the headboard was an enormous window.  _Odd_. Perhaps his quarters were not in the dungeons after all. She wished she could see out the window to get an idea of where his chambers were, but it was so dark that all she could see was her own naked reflection.

Finally, Hermione allowed herself to study the mirror over his dresser. She had avoided even the slightest glance at the object all night, but was drawn to it by morbid curiosity. From the vantage point of its silvery surface, Lucius Malfoy had been watching. It should have bothered her more than it did, but she only felt glad that this night had come about, no matter the means. An ache clenched at her heart as she turned back to her professor. How would he treat her tomorrow? What they had shared was life-altering. But then, he had enjoyed the other times as well, and had never treated her differently.

 _Does he expect me to stay?_  Hermione bit her lip. If she stayed, the best case scenario would be that he held her close and whispered in her ear and maybe even repeated what they had just done.  _Not likely_. The worst case scenario was that she would be humiliated. And also, she didn't have any clothes here, so whenever she did return to her dorm, it would be in a nightgown. And that would be a disaster. Sighing sadly, Hermione realized that she was being too hopeful. Snape was her professor. He didn't want to cuddle.

So she gave herself a moment more, imprinting the image of his sleeping face permanently in her mind, before slipping her nightgown over her head and looking for the door.

* * *

When Severus woke, morning light was already filtering into the room. For a moment, he was still, reveling in the sensation of waking well-rested for once. Then he remembered the night before and bolted up in the bed. The girl was gone, he realized. She must have left all alone after he had fallen asleep. He cringed. It wasn't like him to doze off so completely and unintentionally. But Granger had certainly worn him out. He groaned at the memory of her beautiful face twisted in ecstasy as she climaxed above him. And the way she had whimpered and begged him to enter her. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her. And an orgasm so overwhelming that it left him breathless. He pressed his nose into the sheets, inhaling the sweet fragrance of Hermione. Already, he wanted her again.

Sighing, Severus slipped out of the bed and began to prepare for the day. He was meeting Lucius at the ministry at nine. It seemed so ironic that he had enjoyed his end of the deal so much more than he would Lucius's. But it had to be done, and Severus was no stranger to fulfilling unappealing demands. And so, when he was dressed, he headed up to the cave and Disapparated.

"Ah, Severus!" Lucius smirked. "Punctual, as  _always_." Severus suppressed a shudder of revulsion as the other man winked. "I must say, if that is what you have waiting for you when you leave our little parties, I don't blame you for abandoning us so early." The dark wizard only smirked in response. "Come," Lucius beckoned and the two men headed to the Department of Magical Transportation.

Exiting the elevator, they stepped immediately into a large office space, housing a dozen or so cubicles. On either side were doors marked for specific sects of the Department, presumably leading to more offices. And in front of it all was one little desk and a portly man who seemed to withdraw from them as Lucius approached.

"Johnson," Lucius addressed the man.

"Er—it's uh— _Thompson_ , sir."

"Yes. Whatever. This is Professor Severus Snape. He's a good friend of mine, and I want you to take good care of him, do you understand?" The little man nodded enthusiastically. "Good. You give the Professor whatever he asks for." Then the blond man turned to his friend. "Severus, I have some business downstairs. I do hope you find what you are looking for." The dark wizard nodded to Lucius and turned back to the man. He had spoken with Albus, but the old goat didn't really know what he wanted to look into yet.

"I was hoping to have a word with the Portkey office," he drawled. Severus had learned long ago that his voice held all the authority he needed to make lesser men obey. Thompson immediately jumped up and led the dark professor through a door and down a hall, passing Lucius's instructions on to a rigid woman with a grey streak in her hair whom he called Louisa.

"How may I help you,  _Professor_?" she inquired in a bored tone.

"I need a copy of your records for current Conditional Portkeys in Britain." He replied smoothly. She nodded and stood up, walking over to a large, black filing cabinet. Tapping her wand on the top, she pulled out the second drawer and rifled through the papers a moment before withdrawing a thick manila folder. She brought it to the desk and tapped her wand on it again to make a copy. Handing the duplicate to Severus, she returned the original to its drawer.

"Anything else?" she asked in the same dry tone. He hesitated.

"Not today. But I will be back." He nodded curtly before turning to leave. "Good day,  _Louisa_ ," he growled.

* * *

Hermione woke with a yawn, stretching beneath the soft red sheets of her four-poster bed. Profound contentment surrounded her like a haze as she blinked her eyes open to the new day. And images of the night before began to dance through her mind. Hermione's lips spread in a lazy smile as she remembered the way he had touched her,  _kissed_  her. Finally, after all this time,  _he kissed me_! Hermione jumped up with excitement and ran on tiptoe to the bathroom for a shower.

Scalding water poured over her skin in waves of awakening heat. She had never understood the desire for a hot shower before. But now, reveling in this new awareness of her body and the yearnings of her flesh, she welcomed the fire of the pounding torrent. In her mind, she could see her professor's eyes connecting with hers as she moved above him; the intensity of his gaze as she found her first orgasm against his skin. Hunger had been written plainly across his face and his eyes seemed to devour her. And then, the touch of his mouth on hers. Hermione moaned as she lathered soap across her aching flesh. How she wanted him to consume her with that mouth again. She could be lost in his caress and never care to surface.

But he was her professor. And he would probably treat her as such today. She needed to prepare for that inevitable truth. It might hurt, after what they had shared, to be suddenly catapulted back to the roles of teacher and student. But it was unavoidable. After all, as much as she had relished her night with him, as clear as it was that he had enjoyed it too, and despite the tenderness of his touch that told her there was more to it than business, she could not allow herself to forget that ultimately it was all for the Greater Cause.

There was a lot to do today. Hermione had not gotten any homework done the day before and would need to catch up immediately. But first, she planned to meditate some more. Yesterday, she had begun to follow Professor Snape's instructions in preparation for the first test of her new spell today. The Three certainly seemed to be embedded in her mind, if nothing else, and she was confident that they would be merged as one by the time she went to visit her professor. Ignoring the tingle of excitement that flashed through her at the thought of seeing him again, Hermione headed off for a bit of breakfast before shutting herself away in the Room of Requirement.

* * *

Severus was grading a stack of third year papers when he heard a knock at his office door. Knowing who it must be, he steeled himself before responding.

"Enter," he called, and timidly the door began to open.

"Hello, Professor," she murmured meekly, obviously unsure how to act and more than a bit embarrassed.

"Miss Granger," he replied in greeting, not looking up from his work. There was a heavy pause.

"I've been working on my spell," she said.

"Oh?" he inquired, setting down his quill to look at her. And for a moment, it was hard to breathe. She was dressed in simple muggle attire, but that did not detract from the vision of an angel that she was to him. Her skin was radiant with a soft, pink glow and those cinnamon eyes seemed to sparkle with renewed vigor. Her hair was down in all its splendor. And those rosy lips were upturned in the simplest suggestion of a smile. If the circumstances were different, he'd take her on the desk right now.

"Yes," she was saying, "And I think it's ready. I really feel like it will work." Her excitement was barely contained and it reminded him of the excitement she had demonstrated the night before.

"Alright. Show me," he said. Then he arched his wand through the air several times to ward the room. "That should keep it safe." The girl hesitated.

"You want me to do it  _here_? In your  _office_?" He smirked down at her and lowered his voice to a dangerous growl.

"Did you have another place in mind?" He watched with satisfaction as the girl's eyes grew wide and a delicate flush spread across her pretty cheeks. Severus allowed his gaze to travel down that lovely neck to the rosy collarbone barely revealed by the neckline of her blouse. He remembered how that tender skin tasted; how she moaned as he opened his mouth against her throat.

"No—I don't know. I just don't want to break anything…"

"You are confident that this spell will work?" he smirked at the glimmer of arrogance in her eyes.

"Yes."

"Well, my wards are very strong. If you are wrong."

The girl stood from her chair, removing her wand and facing a bookshelf that contained some of his oldest books. But he was not worried. His wards would hold, even if this attempt was a failure. Although, he was fairly certain it would work. He knew that she was closing her eyes, focusing, repeating the words. Her knuckles were white around her wand and he could practically feel the magic building in the room. Just then, green flames burst from his fireplace and the Head of Albus Dumbledore appeared.

"Terribly sorry to bother you, Severus, but I was hoping you would come have a look at something. It won't take long." Severus growled impatiently but reluctantly agreed.

"Wait here," he told the girl. "I'll only be a moment."

As he stepped through the flames into the Headmaster's office, Albus was already back at his desk, bending over the file from the Portkey Department. He gestured for Severus to come closer. The Defense Instructor complied; his gaze turning to the entry that the Headmaster indicated. His heart seemed to stop as he read the little, black name written in the middle of a list of objects.  _Hermione Granger._

* * *

Hermione watched her professor disappear into the green flames and felt a rush of frustration. She had been just on the verge of attempting her spell.  _What atrocious timing!_  She paced the length of the office, anxiety beginning to rise up inside of her.  _Oh, what the hell_. He had warded the room. What could possibly go wrong?

As she stood before the bookshelf, saying the Incantation in her mind, concentrating on her Intent, and repeating the wand movements mentally, she remembered her promise to herself to search for Eileen Prince first. A flash of excitement shot through her and she opened her eyes. Swaying her wand from side-to-side like a muggle metal-detector, she pushed all of her concentration into the words. " _Ostende verbum Eileen Prince!_ " And with a flick of her wand, the three books closest to the tip lit up. She jumped back in surprise, not expecting to find anything about the girl here of all places. She looked closer, and there, in front of each of the spines hovered the words " _This book is the Property of Eileen Prince._ " Baffled, Hermione swept her wand across the length of the bookshelf, finding several more books with the same inscription. They appeared to be the oldest tomes and her heart began to beat wildly with the implications.  _Was she his lover?_

Just then, green fire erupted once more in the fireplace, and Hermione cancelled the spell before her professor stepped through. She knew that he would see right through her if she dared turn in his direction, so she kept her face turned toward the bookshelf, counting her breaths in an effort to calm her blustering emotions. She heard him huff a sardonic breath to see her still standing there, and took that as her opportunity. "Don't tease me, Professor. I want to keep my concentration. This is very important to me, after all." She could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke.

"I would expect nothing less of you, Granger." Her chest clenched with guilt to lie to him this way, but she didn't want him to know that she had discovered this secret. She had no way of knowing how he would react.

"Ready, then?" she bit back impatiently.

"Are  _you_  ready, Miss Granger?" his voice was a dark purr and she shuddered at the semblance of a double entendre. Heat was rising in her cheeks and in her belly and fire shot through her when he spoke again, revealing himself to be right behind her. "You're not  _nervous_ , are you?" Her lips fell open and her lashes fluttered closed as his voice sent trembles through her body. She was under his spell. Shaking herself out of it, she tried to concentrate on the task at hand.

"Well it's hard to concentrate with you watching me like that," she sniped. His low, rumbling laughter told her that he had done it on purpose. But he retreated, slipping behind his desk to take a seat there. Hermione took a deep breath and concentrated on her Intent, saying the words in her mind and remembering the feel of the magic as it had gone through her the first time. I can do this. " _Ostende verbum Chaos!_ " She felt the magic rush to the tip of her wand, but nothing lit up immediately. It was a bit anticlimactic compared to her first attempt. She swept the tip of her wand along the bookcase and gasped when one of the books lit up. Stepping closer, she could read the bit of context that was hovering in the air before the spine. " _Chaoskampf (German for "struggle against chaos") is a recurring theme throughout cultural myths and legends_ …"

"Chaos, Miss Granger?" Snape growled, his voice bringing her back to the present. She snapped around to look at him.

"Yes, sir. It's just something I've been researching. I read a bit about it over the summer and wanted to learn more." He quirked an eyebrow at her as she turned her gaze longingly back to the shelf. "Do you… that is to say, would you mind terribly if…" he wasn't helping her. "If I could possibly…  _borrow_ … this?" He considered her a moment and she felt her cheeks heat under his gaze.

"Don't you have enough of my books, Miss Granger?" Her eyes grew wide.

"Oh, but, I don't need this one anymore! You can have that back!"

"How…  _gracious_  of you." She flushed. Deciding not to press him any further, she glanced back up at the ragged, old tome. Beneath the layer of dust and grime from years of being handled and left on a shelf, she could just barely read the title:  _Serpents_. What could Serpents possibly have to do with chaos?Her heart began to beat wildly and her breathing was shallow and slow. She wanted that book. Behind her, her professor let out a long-suffering sigh. "Just be careful with it, Granger," he relented. From his tone, she knew that he was amused by her, but she couldn't help the wide grin as she flashed the dark wizard a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, sir! I'll be very very careful, I promise!" As if to demonstrate this care, she slowly removed the old tome from the shelf, staring down at its cover in excitement when she had it in hand. This would be the first book she read thanks to her new spell. On the cover was a stylized picture of a giant snake wrapping its body around the figure of a man, its fangs bared. The image sent a shiver down her spine. She returned to her bag and carefully stowed the text within its safe confines before looking back up to her professor. "Thank you so much, sir. I don't know how much longer it would have taken me without your help." The quirk of his eyebrow suggested that it was presumptuous of her to assume that she ever would have done it, but she refused to believe that that was the case.  _Next time_ , she told herself,  _I will do it all on my own_.

"Glad I could help you with your first…  _experiment_ , Miss Granger" he growled and Hermione flushed at his words. "I assure you," he continued with a wicked smirk, "it was my pleasure."

* * *

Too impatient to wait until she reached the common room, Hermione pulled out the  _Serpents_  text and immediately flipped to the index as she walked. She was disappointed to see that there was only one page that mentioned Chaoskampf and no entry for Chaos. But she eagerly turned to the page so see what this was all about.

" _Chaoskampf (German for "struggle against chaos") is a recurring theme in cultural myths and legends across the world._   _The motif has often been portrayed in the form of a fight between a Hero—usually representing courage in the face of danger and self-sacrifice for the Greater Good—and a Chaos Monster—usually a Serpent, Dragon, or Sea Monster._

"How fitting."

_This theme most likely began in Proto-Indo-European religion thousands of years ago, but may have reached as far as Japan, and has lasted until the present day. Famous examples include Thor vs. Jörmungandr, Yahweh vs. Leviathan, Zeus vs. Typhon, and Jesus vs. Satan._

Hermione made a mental note to research Typhon in her Mythology book later.

There was nothing else mentioned about Chaoskampf in the book, but she found herself studying it anyway. She turned back to the cover, tracing the elegant curls of the snake's tail and imagining Voldemort's face on the monster. Then a sudden thought occurred to her and she flipped open the cover. There, right inside the old book, stretched across the top, were the words " _This book is the Property of Eileen Prince._ " Her heart seemed to skip a beat at the sight. Then it was pounding horribly as she traced a finger over the little letters. It felt forbidden that she would have this woman's book.  _Who was she?_

This new puzzle made her realize once again just how little she really knew about Professor Snape. Was this Eileen a girlfriend? A wife? She found herself unreasonably jealous at the thought, and brushed those feelings away.  _Don't be foolish. He's your professor, after all._  And so what if he had a past?  _But if he still has her books, does that mean that she died?_  Hermione gasped aloud as a pang of sympathy burst inside of her. Could that be why their dark professor was always so moody? He was pining after a lost lover? Hermione was filled by a tumult of emotions all at once. On one hand, she felt indescribably sad for Professor Snape. But on another, she felt horribly jealous and even, irrationally,  _betrayed_.

When she reached the Entrance Hall, Harry, Ron and Ginny were just coming down the stairs. "Hermione!" Ron called. "Where've you been? We haven't seen you all day!" Hermione was taken aback, unsure how to answer, but then Ron noticed the book in her hands and saved her the trouble. "Oh, of course it would be the  _library._  Why do I even ask?" She shrugged her shoulders and grinned at him as they swept her with them into the Great Hall. It was dinnertime, she realized. Amazing how the time goes by.

As they all seated themselves and the other three began discussing the tryouts, Hermione found herself disconnected from the group once again. She drifted back to thoughts of Eileen and couldn't resist opening the book to look down at the inside of the cover, studying her name.  _Of course his lover would be a Potions prodigy,_  she thought bitterly.  _I'm rather good at Potions, too_.She had gotten an Outstanding on her OWL, after all. But she couldn't deny it. With the Prince's help, Harry far outshined everyone in the class, including her.

 _She must have been an odd girl to refer to herself as the Half-Blood Prince. I wonder when she started putting her real name in, instead._ That was an interesting thought. This book certainly didn't look any newer than the Potions book. And that was another thing; this book didn't have any annotations. At all. She flipped through the pages once more. Nothing.  _Strange. Perhaps she didn't have any thoughts on the subject of Serpents?_  She turned back to the name, studying the little letters. Eileen had very small handwriting and the letters were very straight; forcibly so. But then, she couldn't really compare because she had only seen the Prince's inscription once.

The more she thought about Eileen, the more it bothered her. It was silly, she knew. After all, what she had with her professor was strictly business. Wasn't it? But he had shown her such  _affection._  Hadn't he? And then again, Severus Snape was a brilliant actor and they had been playing for an audience. Her chest felt as if it might cave in as a sudden hollow inside burned with a terrible ache. She could picture him with a raven beauty; brewing potions, sharing notes, discussing theories.  _Making love._ The image was too much for Hermione to bear. How could she be so heartbroken by a foolish, schoolgirl crush? A sudden desperate need to escape overwhelmed Hermione and she fled the hall.


	23. Chapter 23

"I wasn't sure if I should tell her about it," Severus murmured. The old man nodded.

"It's best if we understand it better ourselves first, I think."

"Is it as simple as it seems?"

"We cannot be sure without more information. But she is definitely listed here as a Conditional Portkey." Albus was skimming through the records, searching for more names among the objects. So far, there was no one else. "You must go again soon, Severus. I will consider this tonight and we will discuss it again after I've had a chance to sleep on it." Severus nodded, recognizing the dismissal, and turned to leave. "And Severus," the old man called back. "Go ahead with that lesson for tomorrow. I think it's a brilliant idea."

Severus returned to his office once more. It was suddenly lonely not to have her there, but that was preposterous. He had been a loner all his life. No  _girl_ was going to change that.  _Woman,_  he reminded himself. A beautiful, intelligent _, fiery_  woman. She had been so excited about completing that spell. He smirked to himself. The spell had actually been a remarkably simple Charm, but it was her first time.  _The first time is always the most difficult_ , he thought.  _In more ways than one._  Oh, but if Hermione Granger was any bit the natural at spell invention that she was with sex, she would soon be twisting Magic to her beck and call.  _As she's twisted you?_  He felt like kicking himself for allowing this blunder; for allowing her to become important to him. It was dangerous not only for himself, but for her and for the Cause. Not since Lily's death had he had another factor in his life strong enough to motivate his decisions.

Severus sighed deeply. He had never experienced anything like last night. The girl cared for him; he was sure of it. But that was not the part that frightened him most. No. He was very much afraid of just how much he cared for  _her_  in return. He remembered the way she had held him as he came down from a spectacular orgasm. She had been weeping, and her face was wet as she kissed his forehead. But it was that gesture, that embrace, which made Severus feel so completely at peace. The deep cracks in his soul felt mended, if only for a moment. And for the first time in 20 years, he had allowed himself to relax completely. Because nothing in the world mattered at that moment except for  _her_. And so, like a baby rocked by lullaby, Severus had fallen fast asleep.

He shook his head.  _Best not to linger in thoughts of her too long._ So he slipped out of his office and headed to the Great Hall for supper.

She was reading his mother's book, he saw. It amused him how excited she had been about a book that he had practically thrown aside. It was full of folklore and legends about Serpents and Monsters. In fact, it was a Muggle book. His mother had seen it in a bookstore once and been reminded of her home in Slytherin House. Ironically, she had chosen the disturbing book specifically for that comfort.

And yet, somehow the Gryffindor had taken a particular interest in the text. Hell, she had practically begged him for it.  _Chaos_. She was studying Chaos. A peculiar subject, to be sure. For a moment, he wondered what that book could possibly have to do with Chaos. But there was sure to be something, if the girl's total absorption was any indication. She was completely frozen; impervious to the movement around her. Like a rock in the middle of a stream. Focused.

She had been strangely interested in the topic of  _Silver_ , he recalled. And  _Mirrors_ , strangely enough. Suddenly, the girl was on her feet, hurrying out of the hall, her books half-stuffed into her bag in her haste.  _Curious._

Severus watched the girl go. He wondered what Silver and Chaos could possibly have in common.

* * *

Hermione fled to her Sanctuary; where no one would bother her; where she could be alone with her thoughts; at peace in her natural environment. The Library. Here, she could lose herself amidst the written word. Her reality could drain away as she was absorbed into another world. She chose a spot near the back and pulled out her Mythology book. The  _Serpents_  text had referred to the battle between Zeus and Typhon as an example of Chaoskampf. That was a much safer topic than Eileen Prince,  _who she wasn't going to think about!_  It was tempting to use her spell to find out anything she could on this Eileen, but she controlled the impulse.  _I don't want to know._  Instead, she opened to the entry for Typhon.

" _Typhon_.  _Father of All Monsters. Typhon was a gigantic beast who had the torso of a human and the body of an enormous snake with a hundred dragon heads sprouting from his neck and shoulders and wings covering his body. Even the Olympians feared him."_

Hermione glanced at the image of the terrible beast. To her, he looked rather a lot like the Hydra that Heracles was said to have defeated. She skimmed down to the section entitled " _Battle with Zeus."_  Apparently, the monster had become very angry, throwing mountains and wreaking havoc, sending all of the other gods and goddesses back to Olympus in fear. But Zeus stayed to fight and finally trapped the beast with a hundred lightning bolts before sending him down to Tartarus where he belonged. She turned to the page for Tartarus.

" _Tartarus was an abyss of torment and suffering for the wicked. Many of the most evil villains of Greek Mythology were cast into this pit. It was said to have been as far beneath Hades as heaven is high above the earth. Most notably, this was the prison Zeus used to confine the Titans."_ Completely absorbed now, Hermione turned to the section describing the Titans.

" _The Titans were the oldest deities in Hellenic tradition; the first pantheon. They were incredibly strong; much stronger than the later generations…"_ The book began to list a number of remarkable gods and goddesses who looked more like monsters to Hermione. She skimmed past them to the subsection below:  _The Titanomachia_.

" _The Titanomachia (AKA The Battle of the Gods; AKA The Titan War) was the war in which the Olympians defeated the Titans; confining them to the pit of Tartarus…"_

"Hello Granger." Hermione's head snapped up to face the upturned nose of Draco Malfoy. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle were snickering. "Thought I might find you here." She glared up at the boy, refusing to respond to the threat in his voice.  _I'm safe. He won't touch me. Professor Snape would kill him if he did._ And then another thought hit her.  _Does he know? Did his father tell him what we did last night?_  The thought brought a dull heat to her cheeks and Malfoy sneered. "You're glowing today, Granger," he mocked. "Good night last night?"

"Oh,  _sod off_ , Malfoy!" Hermione gathered her books and began to stand, stuffing them into her bag.

"And what if I don't?" he teased in a threatening voice. She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her wrist, yanking her to him. "You know," he began again, casually lifting one of her curls to his nose, "I rather enjoyed our last meeting.  _Shame_  we didn't get to  _finish_." The other boys laughed as he sneered down at her.

"Let me go," she demanded in a low, strong voice.

"Oh, I will," he assured her. "After." They struggled for a moment as he tried to pin her to the shelf and she tried to knee him in the crotch, or grab her wand, or both. And for an instant, it seemed like Hermione was going to win. Then, suddenly, two more sets of hands were pinning her back and she could feel the hard wood biting into her shoulder blade.

"What are you doing?" came an airy voice and the boys immediately spun around. Hermione didn't have to see her to know who it was. "Are you exorcising Nargles?" The Slytherins gawked stupidly at the pretty blonde girl for a moment. "Because I know a better way. I could show you, if you like."

"Luna!" Hermione pushed past the boys to meet the slender Ravenclaw. "Hi! I would love to hear about Nargles. Let's leave these  _gentlemen_  to their homework." She led the other girl to a table out in the open and collapsed in one of the chairs.

"Hermione, are you alright? You have the look of someone with a big, invisible rock on your back that you have to pretend isn't there." Hermione smiled sadly at the other girl. It was eerie, sometimes, how intuitive Luna could be. "Hermione, they weren't exorcising Nargles, were they? They were being mean."

"Yes, Luna," Hermione responded after a long-suffering sigh. "They were being mean."

* * *

She could see the scene, but she was not a part of it. Harry stood in the middle of a cemetery. The twisting and contorting, mutilated bodies of the women were frozen as statues guarding their graves. And through the eerie mist, the stars seemed to close in on the boy. And they were mirrors; reflecting the terrible statues from every angle. She saw the beast in the mirrors before it emerged from the mist. Its black scales glinting in the light of a hundred low-lying candles. Its claws stretched, grasping air. Its prey had vanished behind a black stone altar. A sword gleamed in his hand; the Sword of Gryffindor. But the beast's long body swept around the altar, forcing Harry atop its gleaming surface.

He faced the beast. Dark wings spread into the night as the beast struck the black stone with fangs that pierced the marble. It withdrew, striking again and again. And each time, the boy severed its head with his brave blade, only to watch two more grow back in its place. Suddenly the beast threw back its heads, returning together as fire burst from a hundred throats, glinting off the silver of the mirror-stars, and roaring toward the altar and the boy.

Then the fire took form, suddenly confining itself to the shape of a burning torch and the glowing body of the angel who carried it. The full moon overhead was like a halo. And Harry lunged toward the beast, piercing its heart with his honorable sword. And all around, Hermione could see the face of the angel reflected in the stars. And it was her own.

Hermione's violent gasp shook her awake as the scene and the stars were swallowed by the dark velvet of the curtains surrounding her. Her four-poster, she realized. She was safe in bed. Collapsing against the pillows, Hermione replayed the dream in her head again and again. It was her first night without the Dreamless Sleep, and it certainly could have been worse. But still the force of the nightmare left her sweating and weak.

She slipped out of bed, padding to the bathroom to sip some cool water and splash it on her face. It had all been so vivid. The monster, huge and terrifying. Harry, more like the boy king Arthur than the hero Heracles who actually defeated the hydra. But like King Arthur, could Harry win merely because it was his right as the noble hero? Could his Goodness be enough to defeat Voldemort's Evil?  _He shall have power the dark lord knows not._  Hermione's heart gave a horrible lurch. His mother's love had saved him the first time. Something clicked in the back of her mind and she ran back to her bed, pulling out her Mythology book and setting her wand aglow. She turned to the section on Eros, the god of love.

" _Eros was born from a Cosmic Egg begotten by the Wind inside the 'Womb of Darkness,' which was Chaos. This set the universe in motion."_

 _Cosmic Egg. Cosmic Egg. I've seen that somewhere._ "Aha!" Hermione reached for her Alchemy text, flipping eagerly through the pages.

" _Ancient Greek Alchemists believed that the raw material used in the creation of the Philosopher's Stone was the Cosmic Egg of Orphic Cosmogony."_

 _Merciful Merlin! Of course! The first stage of the Magnum Opus is associated with Chaos. The second with the reflection of the soul._ The Full Moon, the Cosmic Mirror, was supposed to symbolize the Mother. And its essence, Silver, had healing properties.  _Love._ Hermione remembered the quote her parents had sent her.

_"Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."_

_Light. Like the light of the angel. Like Chiron, the planet that "carried the light."_ Hermione hastily grabbed for her Astrology book.

 _Chiron. "represents where we encounter and have the opportunity to accept spirituality. This often comes through the wound—the weakest point."_ _Spirituality?_ Well, the Sun was the spirit and the final stage of the Philosopher's Stone; Self Actualization. Which is also fire, which dragons breathe.  _So is fire Good or Bad?_  She remembered that the planet was named for a healer centaur—the Constellation Sagittarius—who had saved Prometheus, the Titan who gave fire to man. She flipped to Prometheus in her Mythology book.

Scanning the page, bits and pieces leapt out at her. _"…_ _name is derived from the word meaning 'intelligence…'", "…created Man from clay…", "…gift of fire enabled progress and civilization…" "…represents human striving and the quest for scientific knowledge…", "…Champion of Mankind…"_ Hermione remembered the picture of herself as the angel bearing a torch of fire and for a moment imagined that she was Prometheus. It suited her, as she would need Chiron to heal her of her wounds, and she was also the _'_ _key to the dark lord's demise_ _.'_ _Only Light can drive out Darkness._

She turned back to the Astrology book, scanning the Chiron entry once more. And her eyes fixed upon the little symbol that denoted _"Chiron."_ She ripped the book closer to her, knocking the Mythology text to the floor in her excitement _._ _It's a key!_  Her heart was beating wildly. Everything seemed to connect and yet confuse her all at the same time. She repeated the words of the prophecy from memory. "The dark lord now holds the key to his own demise. The one who has been taken will be released, but free no more. He who holds her chains shall have the key. Unlock Victory and she shall be free."  _I cannot be the key. The key will set me free and destroy the dark lord._ "Love." She had already decided that love would destroy hate and that love would heal her wounds.  _But then the part about the dark lord holding the key doesn't make sense._

Hermione sunk her face into her hands. She knew the answer was here somewhere, but couldn't seem to pin it down.  _Perhaps I'm crazy. Perhaps my imagination has gone wild in the early morning and after those terrible dreams._ Reluctantly, she decided to put it all away and come back to it later, after she'd had a bit of air and something to eat. Closing the  _Astrology_  and  _Alchemy_  texts, she set them on the desk before reaching down to grab the  _Mythology_ book from the floor.

And she froze. Because there, staring up at her from the randomly opened page was the angel from her dreams; the angel from the Malfoy's ceiling; the bearer of light at the scene of her greatest wound of all.

" _Nike_ ," The title proclaimed. " _Goddess of Victory_."


	24. Chapter 24

"You're certain?"

"Of course I'm bloody certain!" Severus was anxiously pacing before the Headmaster's desk. "I asked the woman every different way I could in every different tone. I pulled out every trick in the sodding book. She  _won't_  give me access to the files."

"Contact Lucius. Perhaps he can restore your influence there."

"Oh, I've no doubt he can, as I'm certain he's the one who's taken it away."

"Then where's the problem?" Severus glared down at Albus's twinkling gaze. His mood was reflected in the angry, darkening sky beyond the window.

"The  _problem_  is that Lucius will demand another  _payment."_ The old man had the gall to sigh.

"Severus, I know this is difficult for you. But I am certain this information is  _key_." He grinned but the dark professor refused to acknowledge the man's pun.

"You don't know what you are asking, Albus."

"In the scheme of things, it is a small sacrifice." Fury boiled under Severus's skin, but he restrained himself.

"Fine. As you  _command_ , Head _master_. But even then, we will have to wait for the weekend. The Department will be closed before classes are released this afternoon; and every other afternoon this week."

"Then you will go during the noon meal." Severus froze, gaping at the old man who was supposed to be their leader.

"That will mean…"

"Yes, Severus. It will mean that you will have to…  _arrange_  things with Lucius before then."

" _The girl's in classes!_ " he hissed.

"I will pardon her from her second class which is during your planning period and conveniently happens to be right before lunch." The old man twinkled up at him happily. It was not the look of a cheerful grandfather. Rather, it was the triumphant grin of a man who has just declared 'Checkmate.' Severus sighed in resignation.

"You ask too much, old man."

"As you always tell me." At that, Severus swept from the room and headed off to talk to Lucius.  _So much for breakfast._

* * *

Hermione's head was still buzzing with her dreams and her research when she entered the Defense classroom and took her usual seat beside Harry and Ron. Nothing shook her out of her reverie until the voice of Draco Malfoy stirred the curls against her ear.

"Morning, Mudblood," he whispered. Hermione merely froze, pretending not to hear the boy and ignoring the quickened pace of her own pounding heartbeat. "You think you can escape me forever, don't you? You think good ol' Master Snape will keep you safe and warm." Her knuckles were white where she grasped the desk in an effort not to turn around. "Oh, dear. You don't think that's  _why_  he keeps you in his bed, do you? He's just  _protecting_  you when you're beneath him, is he?" Just as she thought she might break and hurt the little bastard their professor swept into the room, dramatic as always. Still, it did not bode well that Malfoy had chosen the seat behind her rather than his usual seat.

"The Headmaster," Snape began when he reached the front of the class, "has decided that I should teach the lot of you a bit about  _Morality_." He said the word contemptuously, but Hermione knew it was only an act. "He believes that if you understand what leads a person to make certain decisions, you will be more conscious of whether or not you are making the  _right_  decisions." He let that sink in a moment. "And by that I mean the  _moral_  decisions." A couple of the Slytherins snickered under their breath. "After all, as I have said before, the most important Battle against the Dark Arts is within yourself."

Snape began to pace across the front of the room, as he often did when he was lecturing. "Now, then," he began, "There is a particularly interesting study of Morality credited to a man named Lawrence Kohlberg." Hermione almost gasped aloud. Lawrence Kohlberg was a famous muggle psychologist. Of course, if Professor Snape told the Slytherins that, they wouldn't listen to a word of the lecture. "He wrote about what he called the 'Stages of Moral Development.'

"Each of the stages in this philosophy represents a frame of mind; an overarching motivation for action. They progress from the most base to the most ideal and no stage can be skipped. One must go through each and every one of them to reach that ultimate goal." He was appealing to the famous Slytherin Ambition, she was sure.

"The first Stage is an orientation around obedience and punishment. The goal of someone with this mentality is merely to avoid punishment. He—or  _she_ —" Snape looked directly at Hermione, bringing a blush to her cheeks as the Slytherins snickered under their breaths, "makes every decision based on what will result in the least amount of  _punishment."_  He sneered down at her before resuming his pacing and Hermione felt a heat creep up her neck, even as Malfoy leaned close to breathe against her ear.

"Have you been naughty, Granger?" he whispered.

"The second Stage is only barely beyond that, as the person is motivated by a 'what's in it for me' mentality, making his decisions based on what action will be in his best interests, but in a limited way, not considering many of the more  _indirect_  consequences." His voice almost had a bitter tone to Hermione's ears.

"The third Stage is based upon societal standards and reputations. A person in this stage considers what is expected of him and what his  _peers_  want him to do." Oh, yes. There was definitely bitterness there. "The fourth Stage is associated with an appreciation for law and authority. The person realizes that the society would not function without the laws it has in place, so it is therefore important to follow those laws."

Malfoy's lips were practically brushing her ear this time. "Sounds like a personal story, ay Granger? Do you know  _why_  he left the dark lord?  _The first time?"_

"After that comes Stage Five. In this Stage, the person realizes that the world is full of many differing opinions. There is no one Right or Wrong answer, but many, depending on the society. Laws are set up in order to find the greatest good for the greatest amount of people. But, sometimes laws can be wrong, or outdated. They no longer apply. In this Stage, governments debate and strike compromises." Hermione was barely paying attention. Malfoy knew why Snape had left Voldemort, and she was desperately curious. Her breathing was shallow and her heart was beating wildly in her chest. She wasn't even sure why this was so important to her.  _But it was_.

"The Ultimate Stage is the Sixth; the most abstract by far. In this Stage, the person makes decisions based on what is  _right_  and  _just_ according to universal ethical principles. It recognizes that laws are a means to an end, but do not always lead to the most just end. In this Stage, a person does not take action because of the punishment presented, or the social expectations, or the prior agreement that it was the correct action in a hypothetical situation. No. In this Stage, a person acts  _because_ that  _is_  the right, just, and  _moral_  thing to do."

"Think that's why he left, Granger?" The blond prat whispered in her ear. But she was listening intently, as if she would not hear him without straining her ears. "You're a fool if you do." He chuckled lightly so that only she could hear. " _No_. My Uncle left his brothers for a  _woman_."

"That is only the briefest synopsis of the Stages, so I will request three feet of parchment explaining the Stages and their relationship to  _Justice_  and  _Morality_  to be handed in on Wednesday." The Gryffindors around her groaned, but Hermione did not even hear. There was a roaring, rushing sound in her ear; the current of the blood in her veins.  _A woman_. It pained her more than she could say to have her fears confirmed. He had so loved Eileen that he had betrayed the dark lord for her. He had risked his  _life_ , deceived his  _brothers_ , and joined his enemy. All for love. For  _Eileen._  A tiny part of her, way in the back of her mind, remarked on the fact that Love had once again played such an important part. But overpowering that bit of sense was a whirling, twisting, throbbing sensation of irrational betrayal and hurt.

But she was  _gone_. Did he still love her? He hadn't returned his loyalty to the Death Eaters. Or had he? If the man was skilled enough to deceive lord Voldemort, how could she presume to know that he was truly on her side?  _But he was gentle._  And perhaps that meant that he still loved her, and would not betray her wishes by returning to them. Hermione was not sure which she feared more.  _Don't be ridiculous. Of_ course _you'd rather him be loyal to the Cause. Don't be petty._  But still the twisting pain in her chest refused to abate. It felt at once like a knife and a serpent.

Snape set them to dueling again, but Hermione could hardly focus. Her shields were half-hearted and weak. Across the room, she was vaguely aware of Malfoy's grin. If she hadn't known about Eileen, she might have doubted his pronouncement. As it was, she had known for days; known and not wanted to believe.  _But it's true._ She grew numb, not allowing herself to think on it. But neither was she able to concentrate on the task at hand. In that moment, she didn't care, she didn't think, and she didn't feel. The only thing she was aware of was a dull throbbing in the cavity of her chest where a serpent was clenching and unclenching her heart.

And soon the period was over and everyone went to gather their things and head off to their next class. For the Gryffindors, it was Professor Binn's class. "Granger," Snape called as she lifted her bag over her shoulder. He said no more, but she knew that he was commanding her to stay.  _The bastard._  He had such power over her, even without the curse. She would willingly comply with anything he wanted, and that was the worst part of all.

When the rest of the students were gone—she did not miss Malfoy's leering wink—Snape warded the door. "Miss Granger," he began, and his voice was so hesitant and gentle that it shook her out of her haze enough to tip her face up to his. "I…" he sighed deeply, regretfully, and Hermione was immediately wary. "I wish there was another way, but the Headmaster has demanded another visit to the Ministry and Lucius has withdrawn his permission.  _Apparently_ , I only have access as long as he has what he wants as well." Hermione suddenly felt sick. A bitter taste filled her mouth and her face twisted in anger, but she willed herself not to cry.  _It would not do_. Pushing away the anger with no small amount of self-pity, she resigned herself to her fate with a long sigh.

"When?" she said sullenly, hoisting her bag a little higher. He hesitated, his gaze turning to the floor for a moment. That did not bode well.

"Now." Hermione's eyes grew wide and heavy emotions began to hammer through her.

"But I have class…"

"The Headmaster has excused you."  _What?_  Dumbledore demanded that she slink off to her professor's bedchamber in the middle of the school day?! That heartless bastard.  _Just a pawn_ , she thought.  _I'm nothing but a powerless, pathetic little pawn._  Tears were threatening, harder and harder every moment, but she held them back.  _That is all I have control over. I will not let him see me cry._

She nodded and followed the professor through the classroom door and into the deserted hallway. Silently, they made their way down to the dungeons, to a large painting that covered the door she had discovered last time. She had not paid attention then, but was now vaguely aware that it depicted a giant snake.  _Appropriate._

He led her inside and through the small living area to his bedroom. It was entirely dark as they entered and Snape waved a hand lazily, lighting a hundred candles.  _A hundred low-lying candles._  She would have laughed if she didn't feel so much like crying.  _Did Eileen live here? Did they sleep here? Did he make love to her here?_ Standing in his bedroom, that image came to mind so much clearer than it had in the Great Hall. The distant rumble of thunder shook the castle like an echo of the emotions shaking her.  _No. I will not think of that. I will be strong. I_ have _to be._ Brushing her sadness away, she focused on the next most pressing sentiment: anger.

She watched Snape wave a hand at the mirror on his dresser and felt a fresh surge of fury. No warning. No words. Just have at it.  _Fine. Then that's exactly what I'll do._  She watched as her professor removed his school robes and the heavy frock coat that he  _always_ wore. Unchangeable bastard. Set in his ways. There was no way this man had ever stopped loving Eileen.  _Selfish bastard!_  She threw off her own robes as he sat on the bed and beckoned her to stand before him.

She did as he bade, placing herself between his legs, imagining another woman standing where she was. A  _willing_  woman. The woman he  _really_ wanted. Did he think about her when he was with Hermione? The thought was too heartbreaking to consider.

His hands were on her waist, tugging her blouse out of her shirt and slowly unbuttoning it. A sudden rush of angry impatience made her rip the blouse open, tossing it aside. His eyes met hers with a mocking grin completely at odds with the scowl she knew was set upon her own face. But the mirror was behind her and Lucius would see her professor's responses.  _Such a good actor._  His hands travelled up her sides and she angrily ripped her bra off too, tossing it on the floor.  _No. You cannot touch me like a lover. Not this time._

His hands came up to grasp her breasts, squeezing and teasing them, pinching her nipples. She hated herself for liking the feel of his hands there. Then, suddenly, his mouth was covering one, his tongue pressing against the soft flesh, his teeth gently biting, suckling her. She let out a wanton moan before angrily pushing him back against the bed and straddling his lap. She pressed against him violently, his bulging trousers rubbing roughly against her panties.  _How dare he be aroused._

Severus quickly overpowered the girl, maneuvering her into the middle of the bed in one quick swoop, and settling himself between her legs. Her rough treatment had him throbbing with need. And yet, her enthusiasm was strange. There was surely something wrong. But he dismissed it as anger at Albus and met her move for move, capturing her mouth with his as he pressed her into the mattress. She let out a strangled cry and it sounded more like a protest than anything else, but she responded to his kiss by latching onto him, kissing him, biting him. And he moaned, removing her school skirt and panties and the rest of his own clothes with a wave of his hand.

Suddenly they were naked and Hermione hated him for his presumption that she was ready. And the wretched fact that he was right. He was already pressing eagerly against her entrance and a fit of anger gave her the strength to roll him over, straddling him once more. She grabbed his throbbing manhood and he moaned in pleasure as she sheathed him deep inside of her.  _This is not for you,_  she thought.  _You shouldn't enjoy it. You should feel pain as I do._ Hermione thrust violently against him, harder and harder, but he only seemed to like it more and more. She wanted to teach him a lesson. She wanted to unleash her fury onto him; her fury at his betrayal; fury at his love for another woman.

"Gods, girl!" he growled. And suddenly she felt exposed. Because he had seen her rage. She had given him power. And suddenly she was vulnerable. And in that moment of weakness, he overtook her, flipping them over. And he pounded into her as enthusiastically as she had. And she hated him for not feeling the pain when she did. But it was good pain, somehow, as he thrust hard against her. Building more and more intense until she was practically on the edge. And her anger seemed to be cresting as well. "Oh fuck!" he cried out, hammering into her violently. And she burst inside, pain and pleasure exploding, wracking her body in violent waves so intense that she was practically jerking from the force of her release. And her anger seemed to follow the course of those spasms, pulsing away from her heart until it was suddenly gone. And he was coming too, growling roughly in her ear, his body tensing and then relaxing as he came to rest on top of her. And the tears came. And she broke her promise to herself as her professor propped himself on his elbows and met her gaze. He wiped a tear from her eye and planted a soft kiss against her unyielding mouth. Concern was clearly written in those deep, dark eyes.

She pushed him away, going to gather her clothing and dressing to leave. Tears were now cascading down her twisted face. She could not hold back the sobs nor smooth out her pained expression, so she kept her face turned away until she was able to leave. And without looking back at him, she ran from his chambers.

The halls were empty. No witnesses to her walk of shame as she hurried back to the safety of her four-poster bed. And once she was locked within those burgundy curtains she succumbed to the force of her despair, weeping into the pillows as she hugged her waist and curled up on top of the duvet.

Sobs wracked her body as thoughts of her professor swept through her mind. How could he be so unaffected? How could it hurt her so badly and him not at all?

She felt a twinge of guilty sadness. He couldn't help that he didn't love her. He couldn't change the way he felt for Eileen. He had loved her enough to betray the dark lord. For a man as seemingly emotionless as Snape, that was an amazing feat. A love so strong, could she ever hope to surpass it?

The thought hit her hard and her eyes popped open in horrified shock. She wanted him to love her.  _Oh, Merlin._ She knew what that meant and a new wave of tears blurred her vision. Her brow was furrowed with a dull ache and the hinges of her jaws stung from the strength of her anguish.

How had she fallen into this position? How the hell had she fallen in love with Professor Snape?


	25. Chapter 25

"The documents you asked for," Severus growled as a heavy stack of paperwork landed hard on the Headmaster's desk. "Bought with the pain of a school girl." The old man smiled sadly.

"Come now, Severus," he said, "Don't be so dramatic. The payment is merely sexual intercourse. Whether or not it is painful is entirely up to you."

 _Ouch_. His words sent a jolt of pain through Severus. They were too close to the truth. Not an hour ago, Granger had been beneath him; sobbing. He knew enough to be sure it was not physical pain that plagued her. There was something more. But Severus had never understood women. And so, as he watched the girl dress and run from his room in fits of hysterical sobs, he had merely allowed her to leave. Because he didn't know what else to do. How could he understand the problem if she wouldn't explain it to him?

He wished, now, that he had been gentler with her, rather than responding to her own angry thrusts with the same force and violence. He could have hurt her, but at the time that hadn't even occurred to him.  _She came_ , he remembered. Surely, it must be true that she enjoyed it in some respects.

And yet, it was just as obvious that something was wrong.

* * *

Over the next couple of weeks, Hermione withdrew even more into herself than she had before. She used homework as a shield from thoughts of Eileen, which plagued her day and night. It had taken all of her willpower to focus on classwork and resist the urge to look up Eileen. She was already obsessive about the woman, and that was bad enough.

She was aware that Professor Snape knew something was wrong, but she gave him no opportunity to ask about it. How could she possibly explain that she was upset because he had loved another woman years before she, herself, had even been born? It was ridiculous, even to her own ears.  _He would think me a complete fool._

But eventually, she was so far ahead in the readings, that classes were becoming boring, and she found herself daydreaming in class. Which was dangerous. In an effort to distract herself, she returned to her sanctuary in the library and used her spell to research Chaos. What she found was interesting enough, but she wasn't sure how it fit into everything she had been studying.

" _Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future_." explained one book on Chaos Theory. She had been surprised to find as many books about muggle sciences as she had in the last few days. This particular one went into depth about the intricacies of the theory, which Hermione found fascinating. But so far, she was unable to find any true connections to her other research.

And then, one day, as she was flipping through the Chaos Theory text, she found herself double-taking when she realized that a graph of the theory depicted the Infinity Symbol.  _Of course_. She had completely forgotten about the original tie between the books she was studying. That tiny, underlying current linking them all together, even before she realized that they were all related: the little side-ways figure-eight that she had seen engraved in gold on so many of the volumes in her bedroom. And yet, she had never researched the topic itself. She still did not even know why that was the symbol for Infinity. But she was determined to research it first thing tomorrow. It was fitting, she thought. Tomorrow was her birthday, September 19th, and also the first trip to Hogsmeade.

* * *

Severus was loathe to play chaperone to the little monsters once again. But he had been meaning to visit Hogsmeade anyway, so it wasn't such a big sacrifice. He was no longer the Potions Master, but he still used the storeroom, so he meant to restock it for Horace;  _the old goat_. And what better time to do that than when he was supposed to be supervising imbeciles?

In fact, he was on his way to the Apothecary when he first caught sight of the girl. She was alone, which he found odd. Usually, she stayed with her little friends on Hogsmeade trips.  _Ah_ , but they wouldn't have wanted to go with her into the bookstore. Which was where she was headed now. And which he was about to pass. And she hadn't even seen him. And she hadn't so much as said a word to him outside of class for two weeks. And, suddenly, Severus found his own path pivoted in the direction of the bookstore as well.

It was chilly out and the warmth of the bookstore was an immediate comfort as Severus stepped inside. The familiar jingling of the bell over the door seemed to lighten his spirits considerably and he looked around for a sign of  _her._

He found the girl wandering through an aisle of advanced theoretical texts.  _Not surprising._  But at first, she was merely walking beside the bookshelf, running a hand over the queue of volumes. Rather than sneak up behind her, Severus slipped through the aisle ahead of hers and caught her at the end of her own.

"Good afternoon," he murmured in a neutral voice. She startled, catching his eye, and he could see the way her pupils dilated immediately, like a cat caught trespassing on another's territory. But her reaction was quickly concealed and her gaze turned to the books beside her.

"Good afternoon, Professor." She was pretending to skim the titles of the books before her, as if there was a particular one in mind. But he knew she was only hoping he would leave her in peace.

"Now's your chance to practice that spell in a different environment," he continued, idly. He was not accustomed to chit-chat, as it were, but he needed to speak with the girl. Something was wrong, and he wanted her to know she could speak to him about it. As it stood, however, she did not seem interested in talking to him at all.

"Perhaps," she replied. A surge of frustration swept through him as he looked down at her. A few strands of her curly hair blocked her eyes from his view, and it was all he could do to refrain from brushing them behind her ear, and tilting her face to his. She might as well have been on a different plane though she was close enough that he could smell her sweet shampoo. The scent wafted toward him, bringing a host of memories along with it, and he found himself reacting to it.

Just then, the Lovegood girl slipped past him and he was momentarily embarrassed to be caught staring at his student. "Happy birthday, Hermione," the blonde sang in that dreamy voice that always grated on Severus's nerves. A pang shot through him and he was completely taken aback.  _It's her birthday?_

"Thank you, Luna," Granger replied, smiling at the other girl as she passed. When they were alone again, there was an awkward silence in which Severus debated a hundred different ways to wish her as well, before she whipped out her wand and filled the void with a muttered " _Ostende verbum Infinity!"_ She began to drift down the aisle, but he refused to allow her that escape.

"Infinity, Granger?" he inquired in a teasing voice as he watched her step farther and farther away. He folded his arms in a gesture of bored amusement as she responded.

"Just something I've been researching," she responded. His brow furrowed as she reached the end of the aisle and began down the next. He stepped around the shelf to stand where he could watch her and block her exit in the same move.

"You have been studying a wide variety of strange subjects of late," he commented drily. She did not respond and he was beginning to feel rather foolish for trying to speak to her. "Is this some secret project, then?" She smiled slightly and looked up to catch his eye before immediately turning away from him. He could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks and took that as a good sign; a sign that she still craved his attention, even if she pretended otherwise.

"It's no secret," she murmured, "and not exactly a project." He took a step toward her.

"Ah, then what is it?  _Exactly_?" There was a pride in the twist of her lips as she smiled at the books before her, sweeping her wand across the shelf though he knew she looked with blind eyes.

"It's…" she seemed to consider, pulling a lip between her teeth and turning her eyes upwards. "It's just… It's more… I've been… I don't even know, to be honest. I feel like I'm being led down a path." She giggled at that. "Silly, isn't it?" Her eyes turned back up toward his, as if to see if he was mocking her. But he kept his face neutral and curious. She bit her lip. "It started over the summer when I ran out of books to read." He smirked at that. "I found a book on muggle Chaos Theory on my parents' bookshelf and began to read it. After that, all of the other books started falling into place, drawing me to them with their connections to what I had already read. I can't explain exactly, but I feel like they're important, somehow. I…" she hesitated, blushing even more, but her eyes were on him still, so he took it as a good sign. "I think I'm onto something."

She looked at him with such triumphant pride shining in those beautiful, cinnamon eyes that he had to fight the urge to sweep her into his arms and capture those pretty lips. She flushed at his blatant stare and turned back to the shelf. A heavy tension was beginning to fill the air and he might have said something to her if her wand didn't light up at that moment, pulling all of her attention immediately back to the books.

She withdrew a heavy, silver tome. Its cover was textured and sparkling and in the very center he could see the shape of a side-ways figure-eight carved into the thick material. The hunger in her eyes was something he had not seen in far too long. And he felt himself hardening. It had been a while since their last encounter, and he had been neglecting himself.

She lifted the cover to check the price and he watched her features fall into a deep disappointment. She closed the book and ran a hand over the engraving on the front before flipping it back open to study the price, as if it might have changed. He would do anything to see her smile return.

Then, suddenly, Potter and Weasley appeared at the other end of the aisle. "There you are!" the ginger idiot called as they started toward her. "We knew we'd find you here!" The boys gave Severus a suspicious look and he raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Sorry," Granger replied. "I couldn't resist." He watched her replace the beautiful book with one last longing brush of her fingers down its spine, before turning back to himself. A tiny smile sufficed as farewell and she followed the boys from the store. For a long moment, he stood rooted to the spot, hating those idiot boys for taking her away, and wishing desperately for some way to bring her back.

* * *

"Come on, Hermione! It's not even a school night!" Ginny was saying. The redhead was determined to have Hermione celebrate her 18th properly, and that meant fire whiskey. Hermione was unsure. She had only been drunk once before, and that had been a complete disaster. "Come on! No presents until you've had at least one glass. Please? Pretty- _pretty_  please?" Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh. They had all gathered in the boys' dorm and everyone was crowded around her, pressuring her to drink the amber liquid.

Apparently, she had missed a meeting with Fred and George at the Three Broomsticks and the Weasley twins had given the other boys a good load of contraband to sneak back into the school. She was appalled by their lack of respect for the rules, but didn't say anything. They had all heard it a million times before, and they weren't going to change now. In fact, as it turned out, she was far more likely to change her own mind.

"Alright, alright. But only a little and  _only_  tonight." A cheer went up around the bed as Ginny handed her friend a glass of the liquid fire. They each had a glass of their own, which they raised into the air as the redhead shouted a toast to Hermione's birthday. The whiskey was warm in her throat, waking her back up, forcing her to feel. It was wonderful and terrifying all at the same time. Because for the first time in two weeks, Hermione felt truly  _alive._

"Here, open mine first!" her beautiful friend insisted as she pushed a package into Hermione's hands. Hermione smiled at the girl, setting down her glass to untie the pretty bow. "Oh, just rip it!" Ginny cried, practically bouncing on the bed beside the other girl. Hermione grinned mischievously at her friend before ripping open the package. Black lace exploded from within and Hermione's eyes grew wide as the boys laughed uproariously and Ginny grinned at her. Heat filled her face as Ron grabbed for the bra and held it up to his own chest. It was made entirely of lace and she could see the red of his shirt showing through. Ginny smacked him over the head and demanded he return it, but not before Harry had snatched up the matching panties and held them out to inspect them.

"Bloody hell, Ginny!" Ron was saying. "What're you trying to do to Hermione!?"

"Every girl needs a bit of lace," Ginny said, reaching over to refill Hermione's glass as Harry returned the undergarments. Hermione ran her fingers over the delicate material, marveling in the fragile beauty of it.  _Would Professor Snape like this?_

"Thank you, Ginny," she said sincerely. Harry's and Ron's gifts of sweets and inks and quills were then unwrapped and all of Hermione's gifts were placed in a bag from Honeydukes, safely out of the way of the rough-housing that whiskey apparently brought out in the boys. It was like nothing had happened. The warm haze of drunkenness and cheer made Hermione feel whole again. If only for a little while.

And she found herself drinking more and more of the rejuvenating drink, feeling less and less of the weight she had carried for so long. As if the stone on her back that Luna had spoken of was being lifted by the Spirits of the Bottle.

At one point, Ginny jumped Harry and everyone laughed hysterically as the two locked themselves inside the boy's four-poster bed. Ron turned pink with embarrassment and left the room, as if he couldn't stand to remain while his sister was in bed with his best friend. That left Hermione with the other boys and she realized that the party was effectively over. It made her sad, in a way; because she knew that she would not feel this carefree when she woke in the morning. And, probably, she would dream of Eileen again.

With her bag of gifts in one hand, and her glass of fire whiskey in the other, Hermione headed back to her own dorm. She realized, as she headed down the hallway toward the stairs, that sitting down and walking were completely different things. The alcohol had a much stronger effect on walking, for one. And she felt a bit confused. Had she just not noticed that, until now? There were the stairs. Were they always on this side? Oh, yes, because the girls' was the other way. But this was the  _boys'_  dorm. Now, she remembered.

She started down the steps and quickly realized that she needed to grip the railing. But the glass was in her right hand and the bannister was on her right side. And she couldn't very well do both with one hand. It took all of her concentration to switch her glass and bag, but a big gulp of the liquid made it easier not to spill it. Feeling rather proud of her foresight, she continued her descent to the Common Room.

She was heading toward the Portrait Hole when Ron called out to her. "Whereya goin'?" She whirled around in surprise, whiskey lopping over the edge and spilling across her hand. She was quick to suck it up before too much dripped onto the carpet.

"Ummm…" She thought hard. What had he asked her? She was in the Common Room. Right. Because… she was going to bed! "Bed," she answered, nodding in agreement with herself.  _I'm drunk_ , she realized. "Very, very drunk," she muttered. Ron was standing in front of her.

"You arright?" he slurred, reaching a hand out to steady her swaying body. His own balance was no better, however, and their combined swaying was far worse.

"Huh? Yeah," Hermione replied, meeting the boy's blue eyes. She realized that she hadn't actually looked him in the eye in a long time. "You have pretty eyes," she said. Pretty, but shallow. She could see their surface, but they didn't go deep.  _Like Snape's_.

"You think so?" he was saying. She had to think about it. Unsure what he was replying to, she merely nodded. She must have thought so, or she wouldn't have said it. His face was inches from hers when she realized what he was doing and jerked away from him. He stumbled.

"Sorry!" she said. They were alone. Like last time. That disaster.  _What would Snape think?_ "I have to go." Without turning back around, she headed straight up to the girls' dorm and didn't stop until she reached her own four-poster bed. Setting her bag of presents on the nightstand, Hermione suddenly noticed another package in the middle of the mattress. She took a swig of the whiskey before slipping into her bed and closing the curtains.

There was no card; no note; no label to speak of. And for a moment, she was really puzzled. Then, a part of her dared to hope and she quickly shot it down. Severus Snape did not buy people birthday presents. Especially not bushy-haired, buck-toothed, scrawny, plain, know-it-all… She sipped her glass as she ripped at the paper with one hand. It was plain, brown package paper, perfectly wrapped as if by magic.  _Who else could it be?_  She bit her lip and took another swig as she lifted the package by a scrap of the paper and shook it, hoping the weight of the object would help rip the wrapping. When that proved futile, she drained her glass in two big gulps and set it on the floor beside the bed, almost toppling over in the process.

Finally, with two hands on the sturdy paper, she was able to pull it apart, revealing sparkling silver. She grinned at the pretty cover, admiring its intricate carvings as she traced a finger around the symbol in the middle. That damned side-ways figure-eight; the symbol for  _Infinity_. It all seemed to hit her at once.  _He bought this for me_. He had seen how much she wanted it. He had watched her put it back. And she knew it was expensive. But still, he had bought it for her. Blood was throbbing painfully through her chest as her heartbeat quickened and redoubled in strength.  _Perhaps he only wanted to make up for not knowing it was my birthday_. Maybe… maybe he felt like he owed her something.  _Is he reimbursing me? For my services?_

No. He had been so gentle. He had been trying to speak to her, she knew. He was concerned. Maybe he was trying to buy her happiness.  _Gods, Hermione, you're too cynical_ , she thought. This was a perfect gift, and expensive, and she had wanted it so badly.  _But he loves Eileen._  Merlin, her mind was trying so hard to comprehend and her heart was feeling so many emotions at once. She wasn't sure if it was excitement or guilt or anger or hope. But her eyes filled with tears as she traced the little Infinity symbol. One thing was certain. He was reaching out to her. She leaned over the book, pulling at her hair in frustration. Why did everything always have to be so complicated?  _I have to talk to him._

The moment the idea occurred to her, Hermione latched onto it. She wanted to see him;  _had_  to see him. It had been so long since they had spoken and he was the only one who knew what she was going through.  _Well, except Dumbledore_ , but he didn't count. And now she had a reason.

She was practically to the door before the alcohol seemed to knock into her with renewed vigor and she staggered down the hall toward the stairs. It didn't matter. She trusted him. He would take care of her. She would be safe there.

It felt wonderfully scandalous for her to slip through the Portrait Hole at this hour and in this condition, but she relished the liberty of that small step. The world was at her feet and she was walking on air.

Until she practically fell down the stairs. Everything was so dark and so twisty and blurry and confusing. She found the Entrance Hall and headed toward the dungeons. Somewhere in her mind she wondered which Stage of Moral Development she was in making these decisions. Then she giggled at herself. Only Hermione Granger would be wondering  _that_  at a time like  _this_.

She wandered the dungeons for a good fifteen minutes before she found the entrance to his quarters.  _Oh._  She had probably passed it several times already. Without even thinking, she pulled open the portrait and stepped through. The surprise was all the way in the back of her mind, past the blurry confusion of his dark living room. But light shone through the open door to his bedroom and she headed toward it, finally feeling the excitement of her own dangerous behavior.  _Out of Darkness; Light_ , she thought as she stepped through the door.  _Out of Chaos; Love._

Snape didn't notice her. And why would he when he was quite busy at the moment, pumping a fist over his swollen erection. When the sight hit her with a punch of sudden fire to her core she gasped aloud and he bolted up in the bed, ripping the sheets over himself. "Granger!" he shouted angrily. "What the  _hell_  are you doing here!?" But Hermione said nothing. Her body was reacting with surprising strength. Fire raced across her skin and down her spine and pulsed low in her belly. She met his eyes with all the desire she felt and watched his anger fade to desperate need. Even from a distance, she could see the black of his eyes growing deeper and darker. Unless she was imagining it. And all she wanted in that instant was to be the center of his attention; to be the focus of that hunger. If only for a moment.

Slowly, without dropping her eyes from his, she pulled her t-shirt over her head. Her professor was frozen in place, as if he dared not move. But his eyes followed her hands as she unbuttoned the jeans she wore, slowly pushing them down her legs. When she glanced back up, he was watching her with a heated stare so intense that she thought she might melt. And as she reached behind her back to unhook her bra, his hand slipped down below the sheets, and she could see its slow movements through the thin fabric. The pulsing between her legs was so strong she thought she might explode. And if he felt anything nearly as intense, she didn't blame him one bit.

Her plain, white bra dropped to the floor and she belatedly wished she had worn the new, black one.  _Next time_ , she thought as she hooked her thumbs in her panties and began to tug them down. His lips were parted and she could see his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths as his hand moved faster beneath the sheets. Struck with sudden inspiration, she turned away, watching over her shoulder as she pulled the white garment over the soft swell of her little arse. She heard him groan as she leaned over, sliding the strip of fabric down her calves.

She stood back up, hesitating for a moment as the blood seemed to throb in her head. But before she could even turn, she felt him behind her. His hands gripped her waist and she could feel the tip of his erection against her skin. Moaning, her head dropped and she gripped the doorframe for support as a wave of desire nearly knocked her off her feet. His hands ran over her hips and she felt him press against her from behind as he held her firmly in place. Then his hands wrapped around, snaking up to grasp her breasts and she whimpered as pulses of fire erupted between her legs.

"Please," she moaned. And his mouth met her shoulder. The softness of his mouth was at odds with the forceful way he pushed her legs apart and she thought she might explode when she felt him pressing inside of her. His groan was so primal and rough that tears sprang to her eyes from the pure force of his effect on her. He was moving slowly inside of her and it felt so wonderful. Then his hand was between her legs, rubbing against her and she cried out, on the brink of orgasm. He growled in response and pounded hard into her a few times before yanking away.

She staggered at his sudden absence and turned in time for him to grab her wrist and lead her back to the bed. Through the haze, it swam before her; a mirage of bliss and paradise in the midst of her recent desert. He stretched out on his back and she quickly climbed on top of him and pressed the length of her body against his as she met his mouth with a heady groan. For a moment, their tongues tangled in passionate warfare, before he suddenly pushed her away.

His eyes were wide with shock and she watched something like worry or hurt dawning across his face. "You're drunk." She looked down at him. He was messing this up.

"That doesn't matter," she said, trying to kiss him again. He pushed her off, pinning her shoulders to the mattress.

"Yes," he told her, "It does." She shook her head.

"Why should it? It's not like we haven't done it before." He pulled away from her and something seemed to crack inside of Hermione. "Please, Professor," she begged as tears formed in her eyes.

"No, Granger." His tone was final and his face was turned away from her. A hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, but she could see that he was still aroused. Taking a risk, she reached out and took hold of him. "I said 'no,' Granger!" he shouted as he ripped her off of himself. His anger shook her and she was beginning to sober, feeling extremely foolish and even more hurt. She rolled onto her side and curled up, facing away from him. This had all gone so completely wrong. How had everything gone so terribly, horribly wrong? Everything  _always_  seemed to go wrong, she thought, and sadness welled up inside of her. And all the horrible thoughts she'd been suppressing all week came flooding back.

"I knew it," she whimpered through the tears. It felt like giving up. "I'm not the one you want."

" _What?"_  His tone was biting and she flinched away from him. Pinching her eyes closed could not stop the tears for long.

"You weren't thinking about me," she muttered. As much as the drunkenness had heightened her excitement, it now exaggerated her devastation. "You were thinking of  _her_." There was a long pause in which only Hermione's sobs were audible.

"Who?" he asked finally. And his voice was so gentle that she burst into tears again. Oh how she wanted that gentleness for herself. Then anger rose up inside of her.

"Who do you think?" she cried. "How many different women could it  _possibly_  be? How many women did you  _risk your life_ for? And betray your  _Master_ for?" Once she had said it, she wished she could take it back. She was being pathetic and needy and he was going to think her a complete fool and she wouldn't have anyone to blame but herself and the  _bloody_  fire whiskey.

When her professor spoke, his voice was quiet and broken. "You know about Lily?" he said. She nodded even as the name registered. It was a strange nickname for Eileen, she thought, but then again if she had been named Eileen, she would have gone by something else too. His hand touched her shoulder and she cringed away from him, suddenly feeling like a trespasser in his bed. She tried to rise to leave, but he stopped her and brushed her curls behind her ear. The gesture sent another cascade of tears down her cheeks and she tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let go. "Hermione," he began again, and his use of her name, more than the force of his hand under her chin, brought her face to his. "That was a very long time ago."

But he hadn't said that she was wrong. He hadn't said that he didn't love her anymore or that he hadn't been thinking about her. And Hermione pulled away. This time, he let her. She felt so foolish for asking him. If he hadn't already realized that she loved him, he was certain to figure it out soon. And he would feel guilty for leading her on, even though it was never supposed to be like that at all. This was just business. This was just for the Greater Cause.

Hermione was dreadfully sober now and she dried her aching eyes on the sheets, failing to suppress one last sob as she slipped out of the bed. He stayed where he was, looking down at the mattress as she collected her clothes and pulled them on. "Forgive me," she said finally. "I didn't realize how much the alcohol had affected me." She had said the same thing last time and idly wondered if he remembered that. "Anyway, really, I just… wanted to thank you. For the book. And everything." She gave him a weak smile as his unreadable gaze met hers. "Goodnight, Professor." She began to turn, refusing to give in to the urge to cry again.

"Wait," he called and she immediately turned back to him. He hesitated a moment. "You should use the Floo," he said finally, and she nodded and turned to do just that. When she stepped out, into the Gryffindor Common Room once again, totally sober and utterly alone, everything seemed to crash down on her at once. And when she was safely ensconced inside her four-poster bed, she curled up into a ball, and wept into the sheets.

 _Happy Birthday,_  she thought.


	26. Chapter 26

If Sunday was Hell, Monday was Tartarus. Not only did she have Defense first thing in the morning with a particularly grumpy Professor Snape, but she also found herself outside his office after class that afternoon, pacing back and forth with no clue what she would say when he opened the door.

So much had been going on that she hadn't even been paying attention. And, after all, it wasn't something she'd ever had to worry about  _before_ , but no matter how many times she counted, the number of days never changed. This had never happened before and all she could think was that perhaps he hadn't given her contraceptive that first night, after all. Maybe he had given her some sort of sleep aid or pain medication. It wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that he just hadn't even thought about that, or considered it his responsibility. She scoffed. As clueless as he could be sometimes, she wouldn't put it past him.

There was no help for it. She just had to suck it up and knock. That was the easy part, right? The thinking and talking and facing the man himself would come afterwards. For now, she only had to lift her fist and bang a few times against the wood. Easy. Right?  _Fuck._  She took a deep breath.  _Alright, Hermione, stop being a baby. This has to happen, so it might as well be now._

Hermione cringed as the heavy sound seemed to echo in the deserted corridor. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until his voice finally called out in a bored tone. "Come in." Her heart hammering and her breath coming quick, she pushed the door open and stepped into the Defense Instructor's office. When he set down his quill and looked up at her, it was clear that she was not who he had expected. "Miss Granger," he said at last, and though his expression was guarded and unreadable as always, she had the distinct impression that he was pleased to see her.  _Not for long_ , she thought.

"Professor," she greeted as she slipped into the chair in front of his desk. It suddenly struck her how very odd it was that they still addressed each other so formally.  _Such a bizarre situation._  Of course, a little voice in the back of her mind reminded, he had called her Hermione on Saturday night. "I wanted to talk to you," she managed in a steady tone without stuttering even once. "I'm a bit concerned because…" and then she faltered. And her face heated. And he was waiting expectantly and staring down at her; staring straight through her; judging her.

"Because?" he prompted.

"Because…" But she had no words. She was too embarrassed to just blurt it out. But she supposed that was exactly what she needed to do; blurt it out. "Because I'm late. I'm really, really late." She watched as confusion turned to comprehension before lowering her gaze to her lap. "And I don't know what to do," she continued. "This has never happened before." Suddenly, all of the emotions and fears seemed to be bubbling up to the surface and she had to choke back a sob. "Forgive me…" He cleared his throat and she chanced a look up at him to see his own eyes averted to the desktop.

"That," he began, clearing his throat again, "is a symptom of the contraceptive potion." She blinked up at him and then felt relief and embarrassment flood her face with a warm blush that left her lightheaded and gave her the urge to giggle.

"Oh." It was all she could say and the laughter was creeping into her voice.  _I truly am mad,_  she thought idly as she held back a fit of giggles and choked on a sob of relief. His eyes jumped up to hers and she could see the relief there as well.

"But it is good you came to me. You're due for another dose." He stood and headed over to the silver cabinet where he had kept the Dreamless Sleep and pulled out several pink bottles. Arranging them in a box, he handed the lot to Hermione. "Make sure to take one every month. And let me know when you run out." She nodded and began to stand.

"Thank you, Professor," she murmured, feeling foolish and marvelously relieved. She was just turning toward the door when he stopped her.

"Miss Granger," he began and she turned back to look at him. His face was serious and she was immediately put on her guard. When he spoke, his voice sounded weary and resigned. "I think we need to discuss what happened Saturday night."  _Oh gods._  And just like that she was back in her chair, staring at the surface of the desk, ready to be chastised.

"I don't know how you found out about Lily," he began, and she was immediately taken aback. There were many things about the other night that she expected him to say, but this wasn't it. Looking everywhere but at him, Hermione felt a knot of emotion tightening in her throat. "But as you already know about her, I think you ought to hear about it from me." He sighed deeply, bracing himself, and Hermione steeled herself as well, keeping her eyes on the desk for both of their sakes.

"Lily was my oldest friend," he began and already Hermione could feel her heart clenching and tears threatening behind her eyes. "I did not have a happy childhood, and Lily was my only friend. She was muggle-born and I was the one who first told her she was a witch. But… down the road, I began to make mistakes. I loved her," Hermione could feel her own desolation eating away at her soul at this pronouncement, "But I drove her away. I—" he hesitated, clearly pained by the memory. "I hurt her." Hermione's eyes jumped up to his. "Not physically," he rushed to assure her. "But I said horrible things to her. You have to remember that my only friends at the time—besides Lily, of course—were soon-to-be Death Eaters.

"Lily never forgave me for that. I think, mostly, because she did not love me. But I never stopped loving her." His eyes met Hermione's at that admission and she felt like she might be dying. "A part of me always will." He was watching her closely. "But—" He didn't seem to know what to say anymore. When he spoke, his words were carefully selected. "But I wasn't thinking about  _her_  the other night." Hermione looked up at that and found him studying her warily. He seemed to consider for a moment. "The truth is…" he sighed again, this time in resignation. "The truth is, Granger, I was thinking about  _you_." His words hit Hermione with a jolt. Fire raced through her at that admission and her wide eyes were locked onto his. But she didn't know what to say. So many conflicting emotions were warring inside of her, but above it all, her soul was singing at the thought that  _he wanted her._

The heavy tension building in the room was broken by a knock at the office door that startled Hermione out of her chair. "Well, Miss Granger," he murmured softly, so that only she could hear. "I suppose that's the end of our little chat. I will not be happy if I find you drunk again." She nodded to him as she headed toward the door.

"Don't worry, Professor. I think I've finally learned my lesson about that." She smiled sadly back at him. "Thank you for telling me, Professor." He nodded curtly and she opened the office door to the impatient face of Draco Malfoy. He gave her a knowing smirk as Snape beckoned him inside, and Hermione headed back toward Gryffindor Tower feeling both relieved and more burdened.

* * *

That night found Severus inspecting his Portrait door and wondering how the girl had managed to slip in past his wards. And drunk, no less. But staring at the entrance would not answer his questions, so he was forced to merely speculate. Eventually, he came to the conclusion that she had been allowed in as his slave the same way any House Elf would be. Of course, the House Elves were able to apparate into his quarters and never needed to use the actual door.

Deciding that it was not such a bad thing if Granger had access to his chambers, Severus slunk off to bed. But sleep wouldn't come.  _Of course not._  When the girl had left the night before, he had gone to cool the aching fire in his groin with a freezing shower. He was far too disgusted with himself to find relief after what had happened.  _She was drunk_. He had tasted fire whiskey on her breath. How had he not noticed before? Might it have something to do with the fact that she had been undressing before him?  _Merlin_ , he wanted her. And for a moment he had truly believed that she had come to seduce him; that she  _wanted him._  And foolishly, he had immediately taken advantage of her offer and begun to fuck her against the wall.  _A student!_  A  _drunk_  student.  _You are disgusting._

He could still feel how tight she had been; how  _wet_. How could he blame himself when she had been whimpering for him to enter her? Severus had no doubt that she would have come easily if he had continued, but he would have loathed himself for it. And she would have loathed herself and him as well.  _Merlin._  How had his life become so completely chaotic in such a short period of time? He no longer knew what to think about anything. Even Lily seemed to be fading away from him, which was as frightening as it was liberating. He could not remember a time when Lily's memory had not been there to give him strength. But…  _Hermione…_  She was something to fight for.

He remembered the smoldering fire in her eyes as she stripped before him. There was no doubting the hunger he had seen there. Was he so wrong for sending her away? Perhaps if he had given her a Sobering potion… Perhaps he'd missed his one chance and now she'd never return. Could he blame her? He had as much as told her that he would never stop loving Lily Evans. What woman wanted to connect herself to a man who was hopelessly in love with another?  _Is that what I am? Hopelessly in love with Lily?_  It didn't seem so. Not anymore. He loved her still, to be sure. But he felt distanced from her, somehow. As if she was no longer the reason he woke up in the mornings; the reason he faced pain and death and horror at the hands of the dark lord for the sake of the Greater Cause. It was for another muggle-born that he fought to destroy this threat. It was for Hermione.

Closing his eyes, he remembered the hurt in her eyes when he had said that he loved Lily. She was hurt because she cared. And he remembered the cinnamon fire when he had admitted to thinking about her as he touched himself. And she had been sober then.  _She does want me_. The thought made his heart clench and his member throb as he snaked a hand down his torso for a bit of relief. And he thought of Hermione; the way she had stripped; the way she had kissed him; the fire in her eyes when she met his gaze.  _She cares_ , he thought as he stroked himself, and a lazy smile spread across his face at the insanity of it all.  _Who could have ever guessed?_

* * *

No matter how hard Hermione ground the little leaves, they refused to become the soft powder that was required of this particular potion. At the moment, the stone mortar in front of her was filled with squished and bruised leaves, shredding themselves, but not powdering. She needed to hurry if she was going to add them to her brew in time. Glancing over at Harry, she watched him holding his own leaves close to the fire before dropping them into the grinding bowl. Another of Eileen's techniques, to be sure. So why didn't the book tell them these things? She had never had less faith in the written word than she did in Potions class. Dumping out her own squashy jumble of leaves, she leaned over to read what the damnable Prince had to say.

" _Hold the leaves near the fire for several seconds before crushing to ensure a fine, dry powder."_

She was just about to turn back to her own ingredients when it hit her. The force of her realization was so strong that she nearly choked. And before she knew what she was doing, she had pushed past Harry and snatched up the Prince's book to gawk at the notes scribbled in the margins. How had she not noticed before? She  _knew_  that spidery writing anywhere. She had seen it decorating the margins of another book in a similar manner and never made the connection until now.

Behind her, her cauldron erupted into flames, causing several students to shriek in fear and Professor Slughorn to hurry past her to Vanish the burning potion. But she did not even notice. The beating of her heart in her ears was far louder than anything else and all she could think about was the implications of her new discovery. Flipped back to the inscription inside the cover, she assured herself that his signature had been done in the same spiky scrawl.  _How could it be?_  The Half-Blood Prince was their very own Professor Snape!

" _She was a muggle-born_ ," he had said. How could she have been so stupid?! Eileen couldn't be the Half-Blood Prince if she was muggle-born!

The instant class was dismissed, Hermione found herself running toward the library. Who needed lunch when she could be researching Eileen instead? She was missing something; obviously. Why would he refer to himself as a Prince if he loved Eileen Prince? Only girls switched their surnames to that of their love-interests. And could it truly be a coincidence that he had called himself 'Prince,' if 'Lily' had been his oldest friend? This was more than just curiosity now. It was a complete mystery; one that she was determined to solve before she lost any more sleep over it.

Within the familiar Temple of the library, between the shelves for "School Records" and "Prophet Articles," Hermione withdrew her wand. She didn't hesitate for a minute. " _Ostende verbum Eileen Prince!"_ Once again, she was met with disappointment as her wand didn't immediately light up. She crouched beside the shelves, moving her wand up and down the section that should have been the right time period for Snape, but didn't find anything. Hermione knew there were records of the girl because she had found them before. If only she could remember where…  _Maybe she was a bit younger?_  As Hermione turned to scoot farther down the aisle, her wand lit up something on the shelf for Prophet Articles. A bolt of excitement shot through her and she practically threw herself at the records, trying to find it again.  _There!_

She withdrew the article and was immediately shocked to see the image of her professor, years younger but no less tired-looking, chained to a chair in the center of a courtroom. "SNAPE ACQUITTED!" the article proclaimed, and she buried her nose in it.

_"The controversial trial of Death Eater Severus Snape ended today as the known You-Know-Who supporter walked free. The testimony of Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, convinced the panel of the Wizengamot that Snape had become a spy for the Order of the Phoenix (an organization devoted to defeating You-Know-Who and his forces) and had been integral to the progress that the Order had made. His information, according to Dumbledore, led to the increased protection of James and Lily Potter and their son, the now famous Harry Potter. Had it not been for the betrayal of Sirius Black, this protection might have saved the Potter family."_

Hermione gaped down at the page. Could that be true? This new information was completely at odds with the way Snape always complained about Harry's dad. Of course, if he knew how important Harry was, that could make sense. But then, why did Snape hate Harry so much? Hermione shook her head. In place of answers, she was being given more questions.

_"Severus Snape, son of Tobias Snape (a muggle) and Eileen Prince…"_

Hermione froze. For one long moment she could only stare at the page as the shock fell over her in waves of comprehension.  _She was his mother!_  Then everything began to click into place, making incredible sense.  _Of course!_ Snape was a half-blood! Could that really be? But then again, so was Tom Riddle. And he must have been bitter about it as a Slytherin, with all of his Death Eater friends. There was no way he loved his muggle father and still joined the ranks of lord Voldemort. So he  _would_ cling to his mother's magical heritage and forsake his father's name. And if his mother had died, he  _would_ have a load of her old books. Everything seemed to click into place and Hermione felt incredibly foolish. And then relief washed over her at the realization that Eileen hadn't been her professor's lover.

But that relief was short-lived.  _Wait._  And then a horrible pang of fresh jealousy slammed against her as she remembered that her professor had already admitted to loving Lily. And he had left the dark lord for this Lily, if Malfoy was to be believed. The only thing that had actually changed with this discovery was that Lily was not Eileen. So who was she?

_No._  Her eyes widened as she reread and reread the first part of the article several times. Throbbing agony filled the empty cavity of her chest as her heart hammered painfully. She couldn't breathe.  _Oh gods._  She couldn't breathe.  _It cannot be._  She choked on the realization as she read one line repeatedly.

" _His information, according to Dumbledore, led to the increased protection of James and Lily Potter and their son, the now famous Harry Potter"_

" _His information", "increased protection", "Lily Potter."_

" _Lily Potter."_

' _She was a muggle-born,'_ he had said.

' _My Uncle left his brothers for a woman.'_

"Oh gods," Hermione murmured. She felt like she was trespassing on some terrible secret. It was a wonder he hadn't hated her for knowing this about Harry's mum.

Suddenly, the sound of students in the corridor brought Hermione back to the present. It was almost time for her next class! Stuffing the article into her bag, Hermione hurried out the door and ran towards Ancient Runes. She was certain that today's lecture would not penetrate the buzz of agonized chaos in her mind.

_Harry's_   _mom!_   _He was in love with Harry's mom! Oh, Merlin, I am in over my head._  And Harry's mom had married James Potter as soon as they left Hogwarts. Hadn't they been dating for several years before that? " _She did not love me_ ," he had said. She had chosen Harry's dad, which explained why he hated James as well as Harry. And now she suddenly realized that he had never said a word to Harry about his mum. But he left the dark lord for  _her._ Hermione suppressed a gasp.  _Because Voldemort was going to kill them. Did he know about the prophecy?_

Each new realization brought a wave of emotion with it. " _Had it not been for the betrayal of Sirius Black, this protection might have saved the Potter family."_ No wonder Snape had been so furious at Sirius's escape in their third year.  _Gods. Everything he has done has all been because of her. Because of his love for her._ Jealousy overwhelmed her senses and threatened to spill tears across her cheeks. And as the day pounded on, she remained lost in a blurred and emotional world of her own until the sharpness of her pain abated and anguish became dull ache.

* * *

When a bolt of fire seared Severus's left arm, he was immediately filled with dread. The dark lord did not often call his Death Eaters all together this early in the week. Which probably meant that he was only calling Severus. Unless something had happened. Or, perhaps  _because_  something had happened. Whatever the case, he was on his guard, and Granger needed to be too. So he carved a warning into the ring that he wore before heading up to his cavernous apparition point.

Malfoy Manor was indeed empty when he arrived. The dull tap of his boots on the marble floor and the swishing of his Death Eater robes were eerily magnified in the nearly vacant ballroom as he approached his master's throne.

"Severusss," the dark lord hissed as his spy took a knee before him. "I wonder if you have any newss from the Potter boy." There was a threat concealed beneath the question, and Severus worried that his answer would not be enough.

"The girl has informed me that the old man has begun to teach the boy Occlumency."

"Isss that ssso?" Severus kept his head bowed. He had nothing else to give his master. "You have had the little bitch for weeks. And this is all the information you have? Is this how you repay my generosity? Perhaps we can find a better use for the girl. Or, perhaps we no longer have use for her at all." The dark lord let those words sink in. He was bluffing, Severus was sure, but that did not keep his heart from quickening despite his outwardly calm façade. "Your sstudentss have been writing home that the Granger girl is seldom seen with Potter anymore. Iss thiss true?"  _Oh no._

"Forgive me, my lord. I had not taken notice, but I will be sure to demand her return to his side immediately."

"This is the purpose of your connection, do not forget. I am very displeased with you, Severus." There it was. Those were the words that so often preceded a bout of horrible punishment. Severus braced himself for impact, but he did not feel the fear. For the moment, all he felt was immense relief that the girl had not been called. "Rise, Severus," his master said, and Severus did not hesitate, though he knew what was in store for him the moment he stood on two feet.

* * *

Hermione had not felt the heat of the ring over the heat of her scalding shower. And so, she had fallen asleep unaware.

And in her sleep, she walked toward the silhouette of a familiar man. There was cold; snow. Everything was black and white; but for the window before the man to whom she walked. And as she approached, she could see that he did not feel the cold. He was numb from acclimation to it. It was all he'd ever known. And though she huddled, freezing in her own thin nightgown, she did not turn back.  _He needed her._  And when she stood beside him, she could see into the window, where a red-haired beauty sat by a fire with another man. And the baby between them was pure love.

And as she turned to look at the freezing man, she saw the hunger in his eyes. For something he had never had. Unwrapping her arms from around herself, she laced her fingers with his own frozen hand and the warmth she had to offer drew his gaze away from the window scene. He was confused, but she offered him a smile and the window grew smaller, until they were without a light.

He had never known warmth or light, so how could he provide one? But she had. And she reached into the Darkness and withdrew a torch of Light. And the snow melted as the light spread until they were standing in a field of flowers. A familiar field of flowers. And together they worked to close the jagged wound in the earth.

Suddenly, she was falling and she screamed through the cold darkness an instant before she landed. Hard. And there was pain. She was awake. The man below her let out a snarl of pain as she landed against him but everything was too dark to see. It was cold and wet and Hermione knew that something was terribly wrong, but she had never been here. She did not know what was happening. She only knew that she was awake.

"Granger," the man growled. Snape. Snape was here.  _Oh gods!_  Hermione whipped her head around several times, searching for signs of Death Eaters, but everything was black. "Get off!" he snapped and she immediately complied, wincing at the horrible grunts of pain coming from her prone professor. "Cast Lumos," he growled and she could hear the strain in his voice.

"I can't," she murmured. "I don't have my wand."

"Here," he said, and she reached out but could not feel his proffered wand. "My arms are broken, Granger. You'll have to come  _here._ " Slowly, she moved back toward him, careful not to hurt him, feeling her way up his body with one hand. She found his wand and immediately cast the illuminating spell. He was not bleeding. She saw as much immediately, before registering their surroundings. It was a large cave with a dock of little boats and water sloshing against the sides as wind rustled the wall of ivy that dipped into it. They were on jagged, black rock and the place seemed somehow familiar, but she could not place it in her current state of confusion.

"Where..." she began.

"Hogwarts," he growled. "Granger, do you know the Charm to heal broken bones?" she nodded, wide-eyed. "Both of my arms and both of my legs are broken. I need you to heal them so that I can walk." Hermione hesitated, biting her lip.

"Perhaps I ought to fetch Madame Pomfrey…"

"No, Granger. Just heal my damn legs!" Compelled by the curse, she immediately pointed his wand at his arms and murmured the incantation. They snapped back into place with a horrible cracking sound before she turned to his legs. Two more horrible cracks were accompanied by strangled grunts of pain from her professor and Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"Are you alright, sir?"

"I'm fine. Just help me up." She did as she was told, but he was weak and still in pain, so he leaned heavily against her tiny frame.

"What happened?" she gasped. How could he possibly have managed to break all four bones at once?

"The dark lord was displeased. Here, this way. Help me back to my chambers." He pointed her down a path she had never seen, but another exit from the cave struck a memory and she suddenly knew where she was. This was the cave that the first year boats led them to. This was the first bit of Hogwarts ground she had ever set foot on. But that night had been so stormy and so long ago that she had not recognized it. The steep incline down into the cave unnerved Hermione more than the darkness. She trusted her professor to know where they were going, but not to support himself on this slippery slope.

It was the very picture of her dream, she realized as she led him through the darkness, holding a light out to guide the way. And soon she found stairs carved into the rock and they followed those down. At the end of the interminable passageway there was a door and Snape opened it with a wave of his hand to reveal his bedchamber. Hermione gawked, but did not speak as she led him toward his bed and helped him onto it. "In that cabinet,  _there_ , are my potions. Fetch me a Strengthening Solution and one of the little purple bottles as well. That's for pain." When she turned to hand him his potions, he was attempting to pull off his heavy boots.

"Let me, sir," she insisted, handing him the vials. He allowed her, grunting in pain as she removed them as carefully as she could. Sweat was glistening on his forehead by the time they were both settled on the floor. He began to unbutton the constricting frock coat and she moved to assist him. When he was bare to the waist, she hesitated before moving to help him with his trousers as well. His sharp glance showed surprise, but he did not stop her. And soon her professor was naked.

Removing the heavy duvet, Hermione draped a sheet over the aching man. She bit her lip. Surely he would have warned her if there had been any possibility of her being called. But she should have known he was gone, all the same. He needed someone there to make sure that he returned safely.

"What?" he snarled. She flinched, but did not back away. Hesitating, she took a deep breath.

"Why was the dark lord angry with you?" He sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

"My Slytherins have been telling their parents that you do not spend time with Potter anymore." Her eyes grew wide and guilt clutched at her breast.

"I'm so sorry, Professor," she whispered in anguish, tears forming in her eyes.

"Don't be," he growled. "It's as much my fault as yours." She bit her lip. In the silence that followed, she studied the man before her; the man who had plagued her dreams; the man who still loved Lily Potter. It was hard not to feel lonely when she thought about how this man loved someone else as desperately as she loved him.

But that sentiment was quickly squashed by the crushing realization that Snape had always been alone. She had never questioned this fact before, but now, having pictured him with someone else—brewing potions, talking theory, sleeping next to one another—the sudden comprehension that he had lived his life in solitude was horribly sad. It made her want to hold him close and tell him that he was not alone anymore. That she would be here to take care of him.

And finally she seemed to understand that Lily didn't matter. And it didn't matter if he never loved  _her_  the way he had loved Harry's mum. All that mattered to Hermione was that she loved  _him_  and she wanted him to be happy, no matter the cost. And elation filled her at the sudden liberty that that presented. And her heart warmed with love for this man who had spent his entire life in pain and loneliness, fighting a cause in memory of a woman he had loved; a woman who had never loved him back. And all she wanted to do was let him know that he  _did_  deserve to be loved.

That he  _was_  loved.

"Your assistance was appreciated, Granger, but I am fairly certain I can find sleep on my own." She recognized the dismissal, but shook her head.

"Please, Professor," she murmured softly, "I will worry about you if I leave. Can't I please stay? Just this once?" He regarded her with suspicious confusion and she idly wondered if Severus Snape had ever woken up with someone beside him before. "Please, Professor? I promise not to disturb you." He hesitated another moment before letting out a long-suffering sigh that she knew he didn't really mean.

"Alright, Granger. But don't make me regret this." Hermione smiled as she climbed into bed with her professor and slipped under the sheets beside him. The only thing that could make this better would be to remove the sweat-soaked nightgown.  _Do I dare?_  She waited until her professor had turned out the lights and her eyes were adjusted, knowing that his would be too. Then she sat up in the bed and slowly lifted the garment up over her head, arching her back so that her breasts would be thrust out for him to see. She felt marvelously wicked doing it and a tingle ran down her spine at the sound of the soft material landing against the stone floor. Then she lied back and pulled the sheets up, almost to her breasts, but not quite. And she smiled into the darkness. Because he had ordered her not to make him regret letting her stay, and she would not have been able to strip if he had wanted her not to.

"Goodnight, Professor," she whispered into the darkness. And there was a long pause before she heard his whispered reply.

"Goodnight." It was all that he said, but she grinned happily up at the ceiling. Because that one word was a hard-earned victory.


	27. Chapter 27

It was getting late. At this rate, they would probably miss breakfast. And yet, Severus Snape just couldn't bring himself to stir the girl awake. Her naked body was draped over his chest; her breasts pressing against his skin and one leg swung over his thigh. It was hard to decide which was winning: the tender emotion brought about by waking up with Hermione, or the morning stiffness throbbing between his legs at her close contact.

It was heavenly, lying here with her, imagining for a moment that nothing was wrong in the world. And it made him want to win this war and survive to see the other side of it. As if, then, perhaps they could be together. But that was folly; he knew that. The girl may have cared for him, but only because he had taken care of her, and lain with her, and because she didn't truly understand the horrors of his past. If she did—when she did—she would realize that he wasn't worth her affection. She would hate him.

The girl stirred, arching her back so that her body pressed against his and her leg stretched farther across his waist so that he could feel her naked sex on his skin.  _Merlin_ , it was so tempting to roll her over and make sweet love to her as she woke. But they had already breached the strictly-business relationship that they were supposed to have, and it felt wrong to be romantically involved with a student. How had it come to be this way? Severus had always heard it said that sex changes things, but this wasn't only sex. He didn't just  _want_  Hermione; he needed her. And he wondered if the sentiment was mutual.

Staring down at her sleep-mussed hair, he remembered a time when he had scorned her for it. Now, he had never seen hair more beautiful than hers. And through the dim light filtering into the room, strands of gold stood out amidst the brown curls and seemed to glow like a gilded veil; like a halo. His fingers twitched with the desire to bury themselves in those soft curls; and they were not the only ones. Severus marveled at his own control when all he wanted to do was run his palms across her flesh and pull her hard to him by the sweet swell of her round little arse. But he was afraid of how she might react. She would either be angry and repulsed and pull away, or aroused and willing and ready to please. And Severus wasn't sure which reaction he feared the most.

* * *

As Hermione slowly drifted back to the realm of wakefulness, she became aware of hot flesh against her own and a chilly draft wafting across her bare back. She snuggled closer into the warmth that was her professor, even as she realized that that was who this was. Her cheek was pressed against his chest and she could feel his shallow breathing as her head slowly rose and fell to its steady rhythm. Next, she noticed that her bare breasts were pressed into his side, and she suddenly remembered that she was naked as she moved against him and felt his thigh between her legs.

She froze. Her heart began to pound and a pleasant fire began to smolder deep inside even as she contemplated how to react. If she acted on her impulses, he would push her away. But if she pulled away, he would think she was withdrawing from him. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to open to the murky light filtering in through the giant window. It was a strange light; unnatural. And she curiously lifted her head to examine the source.

Even her surprise at seeing her professor staring down at her was quickly drowned out by the surprise at the realization that his giant window did not show sky after all. But through the flawless glass she could see the depths of the Black Lake and only the portion of sunlight that could penetrate its murky surface. She lifted herself up for a better look, propping one hand on either side of Snape and gasping at the incredible view.

She was not unaware of the way his eyes drifted down her body.  _This could be useful_ , she thought. It was a very Slytherin tactic and she almost grinned at the deviousness of it. She kept her eyes on the window a moment more, admiring the deep, green waters and the plantlife snaking its way up from the darkness below. Reaching toward the light. Then she collapsed back against his side with her head on his shoulder and her little hand curled up on his chest. She had not bothered to move the leg that still stretched across his waist.

She pretended obliviousness to the stiff erection against her thigh as she toyed with the fine sprinkling of dark hair across his sternum. How could he refuse her now? She giggled. "I never realized," she murmured quietly, her voice rough with sleep. And finally, she turned her eyes up to his and smiled shyly. "I thought it was a normal window," she admitted, blushing.

"We're in the dungeons," he drawled ironically. But her heart rose at the sound of his voice. He was not pushing her away yet. There was hope. And besides, all she wanted in the world was for this man to feel loved.

"Are we?" she mocked. "And here I thought Severus Snape lived in a princess tower." She giggled and took his astonishment as an opportunity to lean up and place a chaste kiss upon his lips. He raised an eyebrow at her boldness, but she didn't back down. "How are you feeling this morning?"  _Professor?_  It hung on her tongue, but she did not want to push reminders of their relationship on him just now.

"Sore," he replied drily. "And tired. A certain bushy-haired know-it-all promised not to bother me and then proceeded to spend the rest of the night wrestling the sheets into submission." Hermione blushed.

"I kept you up?" she asked, her eyes wide. His lips spread in a mocking smirk and it fed her devious mood. "Oh dear," she pouted like a tease. Then she caught his eye. "Can I make it up to you?" His expression didn't change, but she could see the hunger in his eyes. She pressed her lips against his mouth again, longer this time. Even now, she could see that he was fighting with his own hands not to touch her.  _Well that will have to change._

Slipping a hand behind his head, Hermione leaned up to place a kiss on his forehead and then the bridge of his nose. His breathing was shallow and quick, but he did not move, as if he were in some sort of trance. But she was an unstoppable force and would not back down. Leaning in again, she brushed her mouth against his and ran her tongue across his bottom lip. As she pulled it between her teeth to suckle and nibble it, her professor succumbed. Moaning deep in his throat, he twisted a hand in her hair, holding her mouth against his as he responded to her advances with a challenge of his own. And as his other hand ran circles across her lower back, his tongue slipped between her teeth to tangle with hers.

Hermione moaned with a sudden surge of need and kissed him back as passionately as she could. His hand at her back stopped its circling to swoop lower and cup her backside, grabbing her roughly and pressing her hard against his body. She whimpered and began to move against him, breaking away from his mouth to kiss his neck and wrapping her arms around his chest.

And suddenly he was above her, pressing her into the mattress as he captured her lips. His erection pressed against her thigh and she lifted herself to him, beckoning him to come to her. His hand came up to cup her breast, teasing her little nipple. He broke away from her lips to pull it into his mouth, suckling her, nibbling her. And she moaned at the sensation, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Please," she whimpered. And he complied readily, slipping inside of her and thrusting slowly against her as he covered her mouth with his own once more. And his hand kneaded her breast eagerly as he pressed inside of her. "Mmmm," she said against his mouth. "I love it when you touch me."

His eyes ignited as he returned to kiss her with renewed vigor, clutching desperately at her soft body as he thrust anxiously inside of her. And Hermione had never known such happiness. Then his hand snaked down to where their bodies joined, and he teased the little nub between her folds as he thrust into her. His touch was electric and she soon found herself on the brink of orgasm, trying to hold it back a little longer. But he was an artist with his hands and as his mouth came back to capture hers, his lips sliding against hers, his tongue slipping between her lips, the fire was unleashed. Currents of hot electricity surged through her as her body was racked by pulses of pleasure and she cried out against his mouth. And as the throbbing ecstasy subsided, Hermione moaned deep in her throat.

"Please," she murmured. "I want you to come inside of me." He growled against her mouth, grinding hard against her until he came with a breathless gasp, pressing deep inside of her as if he meant to remain there. And his eyes came back up to hers. And he kissed her forehead, and caressed the side of her face. And she could see the raw emotion in his eyes even as it was swallowed up by fear and self-loathing. And he pulled away.

* * *

Severus looked down at the beautiful girl in bed beneath him. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive and… happy. Her smile was so cheerful and radiant… and young. Everything that he was not. And he knew that she never would have wanted to be with him if they hadn't been through so much together. The girl was innocent; naïve. She didn't know any better. And he was taking advantage of the situation because he had never had something like this before. But her willingness did not make up for the fact that she was a student and they didn't belong together. And if circumstances were different, Hermione Granger would end up with some brilliant youth with a promising future.

He pulled away from her, unable to look her in the eye. His own were full of shame. They had crossed a line here. Sex was only something that they  _had to do_. They had no choice. But this morning, there had been a choice. It had been gratuitous and against his principles.  _She is your student!_  And he was taking advantage of her adolescent hormones and the naïve attraction she had developed toward him based on the simple fact that they had been forced into this together and he was the only man she had ever slept with.

And she was the only woman who had ever slept with him.

Oh, there had been others. Barmaid sluts and airheaded women who thought that fucking a Death Eater was dangerous and sexy. And there had also been legitimate opportunities for relationships with decent women. Hell, there had even been a few students over the years who had developed fancies for him; not that he had ever even contemplated indulging them. But of the women he had brought to bed, no one had ever stayed the night.  _Until now._  And it bothered him more than he could say that the reason he had allowed it had nothing to do with his attraction to her at all. He truly cared for the girl as he hadn't cared for anyone since Lily.

Not that his fondness for Hermione could compare to the love he had had for Lily.

_Could it?_

But that was a thought he could not allow himself to contemplate. He could not be with Hermione, though she offered herself to him so freely. She was young and innocent. She didn't know better. She would have given herself to any man, given the circumstances. Hell, shouldn't that be clear from the fact that she had attached herself to  _him?_  Severus Snape, the bat of the dungeons, the greasy git, the Death Eater, the bastard…  _he_  was the very last person she ever would have cared for  _before_.

"We've missed breakfast," he heard himself saying.

"That's alright," she murmured sweetly. And as she pressed a kiss against his shoulder blade, his eyes closed in regret. And he pulled away.

* * *

Hermione dressed in a rush, using more magic than she usually did in the mornings and settling for the bare minimum preparation for the day. Her hair was tied back haphazardly with an old scrunchy, but at least it was clean. ' _You know I will deduct points if you are late_ ,' he had told her. And she knew it was true. His was her first class of the day, and she was anxious to beat him to it just to show she could.

When she arrived, breathless from running most of the way, Harry and Ron were already waiting by the door. "Good morning," she said cheerfully upon approach.

"Was it?" came the voice of Draco Malfoy from across the hall. She snapped her head around to see his knowing smirk and blushed in spite of herself.

"Where've you been?" Harry demanded. "Ginny went to see if you were in your room, but you were gone." For one horrible moment, Hermione didn't know what to say.

"Library," she replied, just a sliver too late.

"Kinky," Malfoy snickered drawing a glare from the Gryffindor girl.

"And what the hell do you mean by that?" snapped the ever-dense Ronald Weasley.

"Simply that your little know-it-all  _would_  surround herself with books rather than candles. Is that how you get off Granger? Or does he have you play Librarian?" Hermione and Ron might have been competing for darkest blush at that pronouncement, but it was Harry who responded.

"Who?" It was more confusion than accusation, though Hermione could see the doubt in his eyes. But before Malfoy had a chance to say anything more detrimental, the man in question swept onto the scene.

"Good morning, Professor," Malfoy said sweetly. Snape only scowled and swung open the door to the classroom. When he was out of earshot, however, Malfoy looked pointedly at Hermione. "Or, so I heard."

The class seemed somehow longer than usual. Malfoy kept sending her knowing leers which in turn caused Harry to give her suspicious glances and all the while Snape was avoiding her gaze. It was maddening. The man had made love to her with such intensity and passion, there was no doubting his affection. That was not merely lust (although, there was no small amount of that either). And yet, when it was over, he had been cold and distant, turning away from her. And worst of all, she had seen regret in those dark eyes. It hurt more than anything else. She hadn't asked him to love her or care for her or even to please her in turn. All she had wanted was to show him her own feelings. But he had responded to her touch and it was that response that he regretted, she was sure. Was it because he didn't care and didn't want to lead her on? Was it because he had given her something that he had never been able to give Lily? She supposed she would never know.

Hermione's reverie ended when Snape sorted them into pairs for combat, placing Ron with Malfoy. That was a disaster waiting to happen if she ever saw one. And it soon became very difficult to keep from watching the pair as they became more and more aggressive. She knew that Ron was defending her honor, in a way, and he had a temper like Hagrid had a monster fetish.

It didn't take long before the fight turned ugly and Ron—who had always been more brute strength than graceful dueler—charged Malfoy, rolling them into a fist-swinging heap on the floor. Harry jumped in to pull his friend off of the snobby Slytherin at the same moment that Hermione reached for him as well, knocking her right into the middle of the fight. They stumbled over each other and lost their balance, flattening Ron against the floor and knocking the wind out of Malfoy with their knees.

"Detention. All of you." Snape's voice boomed over the chaos. "You will report here after dinner. And 50 points from Gryffindor for an unfair fight. Three on one is pathetic and unacceptable." Harry tried to argue with him, but Hermione pulled him back.

"There's no use," she whispered. "He's not going to change his mind."

* * *

"I have been reading about Portkey magic," the old man told him. "Most of this information is kept confidential to prevent the creation of illegal Portkeys. Obviously the most common forms have leaked to the public, but you would startle to see the number of other varieties. Here, for example." The Headmaster tapped a withered finger on the title of a section in the giant stack of papers.  _Human Portkeys: Conditional: Forced,_  it read. "There is another section for people who control their own Portkeys, which could be very dangerous information if it fell into the wrong hands. But this passage describes precisely what Miss Granger has been given."  _Given_ , Severus sneered bitterly.  _As if it were a gift._

"Have you determined if it will allow her to bring others with her?" he asked.

"Yes. That appears to be the case. However, the number of people who can be safely transported varies depending on the strength of the magic, which could be affected by the type of curse that was used. These documents say nothing of those specifics. But…" he hesitated, looking up at his dark servant, "I have no doubt that the Ministry keeps that information as well." Severus groaned.

"You cannot be serious, Albus. Can't we simply experiment with it? It can't be very difficult to discover the number for ourselves." Especially after he had just complicated things with Granger. They needed space to cool things down and correct the damage done.

"That would be rather irresponsible, Severus. Think of the danger you would be putting those people in. Not to mention the dangers of revealing the girl's secret to however many people, along with the fact that I know about it, and that we are all working together to use it against Tom." Severus sighed. The old goat had a point. He couldn't risk the girl's safety that way. "And besides, the distance would make a difference as well. I believe the calculations will be very precise and I will need to know the exact figures if I am to make an estimate any time soon." Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know I ask a lot of you, Severus, but considering your other sacrifices, this one is really not so horrible. It's no secret that you loathe the girl, but she has fought for this cause since she was eleven years old. Surely you can find some common ground." The dark wizard guarded his expression.  _Oh, Albus. If you only knew._

* * *

"I was under the impression," their professor was saying, "that Gryffindors were known for their  _honor_." He spat the word with such contempt that they all winced in unison. "An unfair fight is as much a mark of cowardice as it is of weakness." Hermione could see the fury in the eyes of her two friends and wished that she could explain that their professor was baiting them. "And as for you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape continued, "I do not know what you did to provoke such an attack, but a Slytherin should know how not to place himself in such a position." Malfoy was pouting in a desk as far away from the others as possible. He made no rebuke. "Now, as it has become painfully obvious that none of you possess any semblance of self-control, your detention will serve as an exercise to improve on that fatal vice. I trust each of you is aware of the potential dangers of acting on emotional impulses when confronted with the Dark Arts. Hopefully, this evening will improve your chances of survival when you are faced with that inevitable situation."

Snape withdrew his wand and rearranged the room with a casual swish so that the four students were suddenly facing each other in a rough circle. The four pairs of suddenly wide eyes would have been comical if they hadn't been so afraid of what their professor had in store. "Remain still," he told them and they obliged without question as he waved his wand several times around the room, sweeping around them and murmuring incantations as he did. "Now, if any of you so much as change your position more than a few inches, you will meet with an unpleasant shocking sensation. You will find that this exercise will be far easier and less painful if you decide not to speak to each other. However, as I will be in the dungeons grading papers, you are welcome to try." He sneered maliciously at that and swept toward the exit. "I will return… eventually," he purred wickedly before banging the door shut behind him.

For a moment, no one moved. Only their eyes swept the room in a worried glance to see how the others were reacting. As they had all been bracing themselves from the sudden movement of their desks, no one was leaning back comfortably. And no one dared to do so now. But soon anger filled their fearful eyes and Hermione worried that they would not last long in silence. Didn't Professor Snape realize the dangers of forcing them together right now? What if Harry or Ron demanded answers from Malfoy about this morning? It was a complete disaster.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered eventually. He was half-leaned over his desk in a position that had to make his back ache and his face was turning red with rage. "He's bat crazy."

"You'd know a bit about that, wouldn't you  _Weasley?_ " Malfoy managed a smirk through his own angry glare.

"Watch your mouth, Malfoy," Harry cut in. "That was what got us into this mess in the first place." Hermione didn't like the way this turn of conversation was taking them.

"Quiet. You'll only make it worse. Professor Snape said…"

"Oh what, Granger, did he order you to keep the peace?" Malfoy bit back and Hermione fell silent with fear. "You forget your place, mudblood…"

"Shut your mouth!" Ron shouted, leaning forward. "Ouch!" he yelped as his body jerked violently. "That bloody hurt!"

"Keep still, Ron," Hermione urged. This  _exercise_ , as Snape had called it, reminded her horribly of a muggle invisible fence. It was torture training at its core and Hermione couldn't believe her professor had used it on them. Of course, she knew that he had a point when it came to discipline. If they couldn't learn control, they would be the first casualties in the war to come. The thought made her shiver.

"Listen to your little mudblood," Malfoy teased. "She's probably used to this punishment, ay Granger?"

"Shut it, Malfoy!" She hissed in warning.

"Why's that?" Harry began. "Is that what the Death Eaters do? You would know." Malfoy's face darkened at that.

"Why don't you ask your little mudblood. She knows them so  _intimately_ , after all."

"Stop it!" Hermione cried, leaning forward. And immediately a zap of electric current made her cry out in pain.

"What's he talking about, Hermione?" Harry's voice was full of concern.

"Nothing! He's just trying to rile you up."

"Oh come on, Granger, you aren't  _ashamed_  are you? Don't want your little friends to know your little secret? _"_

"What is he talking about?" Ron demanded, shocking himself once again. Tears were springing to Hermione's eyes. This was a nightmare. Why couldn't Snape have foreseen this?

"Oh, don't you know?" Malfoy spat, practically vibrating with anger. "Your precious little princess has been fucking her professor since the summer." The boys' faces were studies in horrified shock. "That's right! The little whore likes it, too, I hear." He turned to Hermione. "You didn't think it was all a secret, did you? You didn't think he didn't talk about it? How you squeal when he's inside you, how you beg him to fuck you harder. You're just his bitch, you stupid slut! Have you forgotten that he  _owns_  you now? You're nothing more than a slave to him, and if you believe anything else, you're a stupid fool!"

"You're a liar!" Ron shouted, red-faced from anger and from pain as he was shocked once again.

"If I were, would she be crying?" The boys turned to Hermione as she brushed away the fearful tears. Malfoy didn't know what he was risking. If the dark lord found out about this, they would all be dead. Comprehension was clear in the faces of her friends. There was no turning back now. They knew. She began to laugh bitterly.

"My thanks, Malfoy," she said, almost sobbing. "I was bound by the Curse not to tell them, after all. And you've saved me the trouble. Have you forgotten the initial purpose of it all? Have you forgotten that I am meant to be a spy for the dark lord? That I am forced to tell Professor Snape  _everything?_ And you've ruined the whole plan. Do you think lord Voldemort will reward you for that?" Malfoy flinched at the name and the color began to drain from his face in horrified fear. He clearly hadn't thought about that part of the deal.

"Hermione," Ron gasped. "Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione bit back a cruel retort.

"I've just said, Ronald, I  _couldn't_." Harry was quiet; his eyes averted to the desktop.

"If you tell him," Malfoy began in a shrill, terrified voice, "he's sure to kill you. You're no use to him anymore."

"But Professor Snape will know. And he will tell your father," Hermione bit back. Malfoy was a sickly shade of pale green as his eyes sought frantically for some solution.

"That  _bastard!_ " Harry finally shouted, pounding his fists on his desk and hissing from the pain of the shocking spell which only fed the fire of his anger. "I  _knew_  we couldn't trust him! I  _told you_  he was a Death Eater true and true! Do you believe me now, Hermione? That son of a bitch! I'm going to kill him! I'm going to…"

"No, Harry! Stop it!" Hermione cried. "It's not like that! He didn't have a choice, either! It was the only way he could stop Voldemort from killing me."

"Ha!" Malfoy responded, "Is that what he tells you, Granger? I've seen the way he looks at you! Is that what he whispers when he brings you to his bed? It's all for your own sake? It's keeping you alive?"

"You don't know the half of it, Malfoy!"

"Oh and you do?"

Harry reached for his wand, convulsing in pain before he could even withdraw it. "I'll kill that bastard!" he said.

"No! Harry don't be stupid! Let me explain!" Every movement sent shocks through her, but she paid the pain no heed. This was a disaster.

"No!" Ron shouted back at her, breathless from shocking himself, " _You_  don't be stupid, Hermione! He's the greasy git! And you're  _sleeping with him?!_  I can't believe you fell for that! I can't believe you're  _still_  on his side! What are you, in love with him?!" There was a heavy pause in the midst of the ruckus and every eye turned to her. She blinked, not knowing what to say. What could she tell him? The truth? A lie? Neither was an option. But her hesitation was all the answer they needed.

" _Gods_ , Hermione!" Harry scolded, "How could you?"

"You don't understand," she pleaded, "You don't know." It was all she could do to keep from sobbing. Malfoy had gone quiet, clearly contemplating his own predicament, if the fear in his eyes was any indication. Ron was quiet as well, staring down at the desktop as comprehension dawned across his face.

"You love him. You didn't want me, but you fell in love with the greasy git."

"No, Ron," she whispered through the agony, "It wasn't like that." The tears were cascading down her cheeks and she wished she had her time-turner and could go back and fix this mess. But it was done. There was no going back now. Damn Snape and his ignorance of the situation! Damn Malfoy and his big mouth! Damn Harry and Ron for their prejudices! And damn the dark lord for it all! She lunged out of her seat, running for the door and tripping over herself in her pain to writhe on the floor, convulsing as the boys looked on, helpless.

"Hermione!" Harry screamed, trying to reach for her and falling back against his desk. And through the haze of consciousness, even Malfoy looked concerned. Their faces were blurring with her tears and a darkness that was settling on her vision as the pain seemed to dull slowly, as if it were a long way away. But a sudden  _bang_  jolted her awake a moment before she succumbed to the darkness and suddenly her pain abated.

Everything happened at once. Harry and Ron jumped up and lunged at their professor as he swept to Hermione's side, pulling her to him. His ready wand sent the boys reeling backwards to crash back into their desks. Malfoy only watched with frightened eyes and Hermione suddenly found herself in Severus's lap.

"You little fool," he murmured, brushing her hair from her face. "I expected Potter, maybe Weasley, but not  _you_." She could not respond, but pressed her eyes into his dark robes and sobbed heavily. "What happened?" he demanded of the room. All three boys were at a loss to explain as they watched the dark professor cradle the shivering girl. He stood, slowly, gracefully despite the weight of the burden in his arms. "Tell me!" he shouted angrily, to no one in particular. Hermione was compelled to respond.

"Malfoy told them everything," she said. And the room began to swirl with angry magic as the boys all backed away. Malfoy tried to make a run for the door and was suddenly thrown backward against a wall, though their professor didn't wield his wand.

"Fool!" he shouted. "Do you know what you have done?" He set Hermione on her feet and swept toward the frightened blond. "If the dark lord heard so much as a whisper about this you'd both be dead." Hermione slowly settled herself back into her chair. The boys were eying her with concern. " _Dead_ , Draco. Do you think you are valuable enough to the dark lord to protect you from his wrath? You are wrong. He would kill you in an instant and then punish your father and me. And he would kill Hermione, as well. Is that what you wanted?" He had the boy pinned against the wall and Malfoy was whimpering with fear.

"No! I didn't know! I wasn't thinking!"

"No," Snape agreed, flinging the boy to the floor. "You weren't."

"You bastard!" Harry shouted at last. His anger had only intensified in the interim. Snape's cold eyes turned on him in controlled rage. It was frightening to behold. But Harry did not heed his warning. "We know what you've been doing to Hermione! You may have fooled her, but you won't fool me! I know what you are!" And suddenly Snape was on him, grasping the front of his robes, their faces mere inches apart.

"What am I,  _Potter?_ " he growled, but Harry did not back down.

"A Death Eater," he seethed. And the Slytherin Head merely sneered down at him.

"Very astute,  _Potter,_ " he replied, releasing the boy. "Draco, wait here for my return." It was clear from Malfoy's struggles that he couldn't have left if he wanted to. "You three," their professor continued, his voice an octave lower and dangerous. "Come with me."


	28. Chapter 28

"I cannot overstate the necessity for secrecy in this matter," the Headmaster was saying. "If the dark lord were to discover this folly, he would deem Miss Granger useless and either find a new use for her, or…" He broke off, but they all knew what he meant. Ron was glaring moodily out the window with his arms folded over his chest while Harry gripped his seat angrily in an effort to keep himself from attacking their professor. And between the boys sat a wide-eyed and worried Ginny Weasley. Dumbledore had had the foresight to know that she would be told this secret eventually and needed to be given the same warnings as the other two.

"What's more, if he knew of my own involvement, Professor Snape would be in peril as well. I must insist that Occlumency lessons continue immediately. For all of them." Snape and the boys all groaned in agony at that pronouncement. "Severus, I think you will need to include Mr. Malfoy." Ron dropped his head into his hands in defeat as their professor nodded. He was furious, but his own rage was kept under control, barely visible. The same could not be said of Hermione's good friends. "Although, under the circumstances, I think it best that he remain ignorant of my involvement. He must continue to believe that you are truly faithful to the dark lord. Your failure to report him should be seen as a favor to his father; or even a selfish desire to keep the girl. He cannot be trusted with any more information than he already has."

"Of course, Albus," Severus replied. "I left him bound in the classroom, waiting for my return. Shall I bring him to Lucius?" The Headmaster nodded.

"As you will. Perhaps you can use it as leverage for our own ends." Severus gave a curt nod before sweeping from the room. The Headmaster turned to his students. "While it is true that Miss Granger was forbidden from discussing the matter with any of you, she concealed the fact that either Severus or I could have told you at any time. The real reason that we kept this information from you was for her safety and that of your professor. Until you are all accomplished in Occlumency your knowledge of her Curse will be a threat to both of them; and your awareness of my involvement will be a threat to the Cause. I must insist that you all treat these lessons as your highest priority. Much depends on them." He gave them each a hard stare and Hermione sighed wearily. The anxiety of the past hour had drained her entirely. "Now, I am sure you all have questions."

Hermione knew that a thousand questions flitted through each of their minds at the prompt, but it was Ginny who spoke up first. "So… you're Snape's slave?" she asked in confusion. The poor girl had been thrown into the chaos with little explanation and left to catch up on her own. Hermione nodded, resigned. "And he… he… he raped you?" Hermione groaned. How could she ever explain? Especially with Dumbledore present.

"No. It wasn't like that. I was taken to Malfoy Manor, right? That was when I slipped away at Flourish and Blotts. It was my own fault, entirely. They were planning to use me as bait to capture Harry. But Professor Snape showed up and told them that Harry had been locked away and that he wouldn't be let out until I was rescued or killed. And Voldemort was ready to kill me, but Professor Snape stopped him, saying that he thought it would be a waste and I might have some use yet. He suggested the Imperius. He would return, pretending that he had rescued me miraculously under Professor Dumbledore's orders, but I would be under his control. But Voldemort said that was too weak; that Professor Dumbledore would notice and remove the curse. They needed something stronger.

"The Curse he chose involves consent;  _my_  consent. Basically, I sold myself into slavery and the price was my life. I would be forced to tell Professor Snape anything; do anything he told me to do. That was why he had to… they never would have believed…" Her eyes suddenly filled with tears of shame from weeks of concealing this secret. She remembered how horrible it had been in the beginning, and she had been so terribly alone. She remembered how Professor Snape had forbidden her from telling them any of it. "The other Death Eaters were jealous when they found out and demanded that he bring me to a revel." Ginny gasped in horror at that. "They wanted him to share, but he refused. The compromise was… was… they got to watch."

"That  _bastard!_ " Harry shouted, rising from his chair and pacing the room angrily.

"No, Harry, haven't you heard what I've been saying? If it weren't for Professor Snape, I'd be dead."

"Oh, sure, so this is his  _price_  is it? You're just  _repaying_  him?"

"No!" Hermione cried.

"Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, "Professor Snape and Miss Granger have both been acting under my orders. And I can assure you that neither one of them is happy with the situation."  _Ouch._  That stung a bit. "But, as I was telling Severus just this afternoon, sacrifices must be made. It could have been much worse for them." Hermione's heart began pounding wildly at that pronouncement. It clenched tight and seemed to squeeze tears into her eyes, but she could not show the Headmaster how his words had affected her. So she swallowed her tears around a newly formed knot in her throat and focused on breathing; slow and deep.

" _Sacrifice?_ " Harry was seething. "Oh sure, some  _sacrifice_  for him! The only one  _sacrificing_  here is Hermione! You can bet that old bastard enjoys every minute of it!"

"Harry," the Headmaster warned gently.

"Just think of it! He's always  _hated_  Hermione. He's always been cruel and horrible to her and all she's ever done is worked hard to do well in his class. Now she  _has_  to do whatever he tells her to! And she's  _forced_  to have sex with him!" Harry was fuming, but his words stung Hermione more than he could know. Although she was outwardly calm, inside she was a sea of turmoil. "And now he's brainwashing her into thinking that it's all for  _her_  safety and  _her_ benefit and he doesn't want to hurt her. Ha! Snape has  _always_  tried his  _very best_  to  _make sure_  that he hurt her!"

"Maybe he's giving her something," Ron put in. "She hasn't been herself lately. And she sticks up for him, too."

"Now, now," their Headmaster replied, calmly indulgent. "Let's not let our imaginations run away with us."

"No, really!" Ron exclaimed, convinced now. "She… she's in love with him." Hermione's head snapped around to him in shock at that betrayal. But he was adamant that this new theory must be true. "The real Hermione  _never_  would have fallen in love with… with  _him!_ " She would have responded if she could only speak, and she belatedly noticed Ginny's worried eyes upon her. Ripping her own away, Hermione noticed concern in the Headmaster's gaze as well and thought she might die right then and there.

"Please, Professor," she pleaded, "Don't tell him."

* * *

"Why, Severus, what a surprise." Lucius Malfoy glanced over the frightened form of his son, indicating that  _his_  presence was far more  _surprising._  Severus said not a word, but closed the door to the elegant study, warding it thoroughly before turning his wand to the rest of the room and withdrawing a battered Sneakoscope. It did not move when he set it on the ornate, oak table, and Severus was appeased. One could not be too careful when discussing such things so close to the dark lord.

"We've had a little incident," he growled, thrusting Lucius's son toward him.

"Oh dear, Draco, what have you done?" the blond man drawled in a bored tone. But behind his nonchalance, Severus sensed fear.

"He had a bit of a spat with the Potter boy," the dark wizard began. Lucius sneered. That was hardly unusual and certainly not cause for a visit. "And he wisely felt the need to reveal certain secrets about one of Potters  _friends_." Those ice-blue eyes snapped to Draco, growing wide with fearful comprehension.

"He didn't," Lucius hissed.

"Oh, I assure you," Severus growled. "He did."

"Idiot boy!" the blond aristocrat spat at his son as he backhanded him across the face. Draco whimpered and cringed away from his father.

"I didn't mean to!" he whined. "I only meant to make him angry! I forgot why he wasn't supposed to know!" Lucius yanked the boy by his similar blond hair.

"We cannot afford to  _forget_  such things!" he hissed, throwing his son to the floor. "Fuck!" he shouted to the ceiling as he began to pace. "What shall we do?"

"What  _can_  we do?" Severus answered him. They both knew that it was Severus's duty to report this to the dark lord. But, obviously, he had not done so yet. Lucius seized upon that fact, twisting it to his advantage as he was wont to do.

"You won't tell," he said, closing in on his good friend. "You like the girl too much, don't deny it! You know that he would kill her if he knew." Severus considered him.

"He would kill Draco, too."

"Do you mean to blackmail me, Severus?" From the corner of his eye, he could see Draco cringing at the word. Lucius Malfoy was the master of blackmail. It was an insult to have it turned around on him. He needed to step carefully. Malfoy pride was a powerful force and something to handle with care.

"Not at all, old friend," he purred. "I mean to keep this secret. But the boy is a threat to himself. I would teach him Occlumency."

"Occlumency," the other man considered, thoughtfully. "Yes. A fine idea."

"The others must be taught as well, of course," Severus continued, sounding bored. "If the dark lord were to capture one of them… it would not bode well."

"The others?" Lucius snapped.

"Yes. Potter and his companions. I will tell them that the Headmaster commands it. For the moment, I have convinced them that the old fool knows. They think that this arrangement was made under his orders and that it was all for Miss Granger's benefit." He spat the name, but his perceptive friend saw through it.

"Severus," he began with a malicious grin, "you old fool; you've grown attached to the girl, haven't you? You  _care_  for her." Now for the trickiest decision. Admitting to this weakness would open himself to vulnerability, but for the moment Lucius was still more vulnerable than he. On the other hand, revealing this threat to his loyalty would put them on equal grounds and his friend would be more likely to confide in him. Their support for each other might even loosen the aristocrat's ties to the dark lord, with time.

"You would too, I dare say," Severus responded carefully. "She's a brilliant, passionate little beauty with a strong desire to  _please_." Lucius smirked at him triumphantly. Severus had always known that the blond man's loyalty lay first and foremost with his family. Even the temptation and threat of the dark lord could not take precedence. Because, unlike the other Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy knew love. And even his famous ambition could not trump that. If anyone,  _he_  would understand the power that Severus's affection had and the danger that presented to the Cause.

It was risky, to be sure. But, then again, Lucius had admitted weeks ago that the dark lord was forcing a wedge between himself and his wife, Narcissa. It was understood, though no other Death Eater would see it, that that was a serious threat to his loyalty. And now they were on equal terms.

"Then the dark lord need not know," the elegant wizard purred as if it were his decision to make. Severus grinned conspiratorially at him.

"No. I quite agree."

* * *

Hermione traced the sparkling side-ways figure-eight for the hundredth time. It was all she could do to keep her mind off of her present turmoil as she was currently ensconced safely behind the barricade of her bed-curtains. This book was proof that he didn't hate her, wasn't it? Not only because he had bought it (and it was truly an expensive tome), but because he had noticed her desire for it. Because he had followed her through the bookstore, clearly out of concern. Because he had been curious about her little research project and he respected the work she was doing. He hadn't made fun of her once. In fact, he hadn't been cruel to her in ages. And any jibes had been teasing jests, not insults.

She had not had much of a chance to explore this text yet, and feared that her concentration would not hold at the moment, anxious as she was. But she flipped the book open to the Table of Contents anyway, and skimmed the list of chapters. The first chapter was a brief introduction to the concept of Infinity, but the second was dedicated to the symbol, itself. Curious, she turned to the page.

" _The Lemniscate was first used to represent the concept of the Infinite in mathematical terms by John Wallis in 1655, but the symbol itself was much older. It can be found in religious texts, paintings, Tarot cards, and monuments from thousands of years ago and is even seen in the Arabic letters that make up the Name of God. It has been thought that the symbol came from the Roman numerals for 1,000 (CIƆ, or CƆ) which was often used to mean "many" as well. Other theorists believe that the lemniscate evolved from the last letter in the Greek alphabet (_ ω " _Omega")._

" _The symbol has often been shown as a variant of the ouroboros; the image of a snake eating its own tail which also symbolizes the infinite._

" _The two sides are meant to represent the balance of opposites: male and female, day and night, dark and light…" good and evil,_  Hermione added in her head.  _Love and Hate. Order and Chaos._

" _The convergent point in the center symbolizes the union of opposites, epitomized by sexual intercourse and the motif of 'two becoming one.' It is a symbol of wholeness and completion."_ Before Hermione had a chance to let that sink in, the voice of Ginny Weasley floated through her curtained wall.

"Hermione, can I come in?" she pleaded. Hermione sighed. It would be now or later, and she might as well put it all behind her as soon as she could.

"Sure, Ginny," she murmured, pulling aside the curtain to allow the pretty redhead into her bed. Ginny hopped up happily and studied Hermione's miserable face.

"Talk to me," the other girl demanded gently. Hermione almost laughed.

"What do you want me to say?" Ginny shrugged.

"It doesn't matter. But I know you'd have a hard time talking about this to the boys." Hermione's lips quirked and Ginny tilted her head in consideration. "You never let on," she said. "You never even hinted. And there I was blabbering away about having sex with Harry. And,  _gods_ , the whole time  _you_  were having sex with Snape! You must have been miserable! I'm so sorry, Hermione." The older girl shook her head, turning her gaze to the mattress.

"It's…" how could she possibly explain? "It's not like that, Ginny. I mean… it was at first. Sort of. Well, no, actually not even then. I mean, he didn't rape me. We… we were alone the first time. He wanted to make sure I was prepared before he brought me to the revel, and the Death Eaters would have been suspicious if… if I had still been… a virgin." She sighed wearily. "And… I mean… it was really awkward at first…"

"Yeah, I'd imagine so, it's  _Snape!"_

"Yeah, I know, but it's not like you would think. He's really gentle and protective. And he can be passionate, too."

"Oh gods, Hermione, we're talking about  _Snape_  here. The bat of the dungeons! I mean, what, did he use his hair grease as lube?" Hermione felt a surge of anger at Ginny's words and glared defensively at the other girl. Ginny held her hands up. "Gods, Hermione, I'm only joking. It's just… it's really hard to come to terms with, you know? I mean this is the man who used to take points from you for answering questions correctly. And now you're… you're head-over-heels for him!"

"I know," Hermione moaned, letting her head fall into her hands. "Believe me, I know. I didn't mean for things to go this way, but… but I've seen another side of him." Ginny leered at her.

"Oh, I  _know_  you have!" she joked. Hermione's lips cracked in a smile and she batted the other girl with a pillow.

"You would understand if you knew him like I do," she said, smiling. "You'd be surprised how caring and gallant he can be."

"Mmmhmm," Ginny hummed, waggling her eyebrows. "So…" she purred, lying on her side and leaning conspiratorially toward her friend. "How is he?" Hermione felt her face grow warm as her lips stretched in an embarrassed smile. "That good?" Ginny gasped.

" _Better_ ," her quiet friend replied.

* * *

"Who wants to go first?" Snape's voice startled the boys out of their daze with a sharp jerk back to the present. All five students glanced around at the others, hoping someone else would volunteer. Their professor had just finished repeating the same lecture he had given at Grimmauld Place this summer. Harry and Ron hadn't listened that time either, but Hermione could practically recite it by heart at this point. The new additions to their little class, Ginny and Malfoy, both looked equally intimidated and afraid. The other two had regained their angry scowls and Hermione realized that she would probably have to go first after all. "Mr. Potter?" Snape suggested wickedly. Harry jumped.

"No," he said angrily. "No. I shouldn't even be here. What will Voldemort care about the two of you if he captures  _me?_ " There was a tense pause. Both Malfoy and Snape had winced at the mention of the dark lord's name. And now, Harry and his professor were having a glare-off.

"Miss Granger," that silky baritone began, dangerously low, "kindly give Mr. Potter a good whack in the back of the head." There was nothing for it. He had issued a command. Before the rest of the group had even registered what their professor had said, Hermione had taken her hand hard to Harry's dark hair.

"I'm sorry!" she cried as Harry turned to her in shock and Malfoy burst out laughing. Then Harry was out of his seat, wand in hand, advancing on his sneering professor. But he didn't make it very far before he was suddenly blasted back into his chair. And he crashed against it with such force that it tipped backward to clatter against the floor.

"You bastard!" Harry shouted angrily. Ron was on his feet.

"50 points from Gryffindor, Potter. Care to make it a hundred?" The two boys folded their arms angrily, but returned to their seats.

"I'll go first, Professor," Hermione offered. On either side of her, Malfoy and Ginny sent knowing looks her way as she stood to face Professor Snape.

"Very well, Miss Granger," he purred and she felt a shiver run down her spine. "Try to distract me." He lifted his wand and poised for attack. All she could do was brace herself.

" _Legilimens!"_


	29. Chapter 29

Hermione scanned the Table of Contents of the large tome for her query. She had found the book with the help of her  _Ostende Verbum_  spell and brought it to a secluded table in one of the shadier corners of the library.  _Yin and Yang_ , the chapter was called.  _Perfect._  The idea had come to her from something she had read in the Infinity text. It had described the infinity symbol as a balance of opposites, and that brought to mind images of the black and white ball she had always associated with Chinese Philosophy. She turned to the page.

" _Yin and Yang are opposite yet not opposing. They represent the dual nature of the Universe; the balance of opposites that creates a stronger whole. Where Yang is the light of the Sun on the mountain, Yin is the shadow behind, in the valley. As the Sun moves, so do these forces. And what was obscured is revealed. And what was revealed is obscured. There can be no shadow without light. There can be no light without shadow._

" _The branches of a tree may seek the Sun, but the roots below reach into Darkness. Yang is the sun: masculine, aggressive, hard, hot, dry, fast, and focused. Yin is the moon: feminine, passive, soft, cool, wet, slow, and yielding._

" _A stone is dropped into a pond. The waves it creates go both above and below the surface; Crest and Trough. These two begin together from a point of quiescence—of emptiness—and they continue until quiescence is reached again. When one extreme is reached, it turns to the other direction, as a crest becomes a trough. It is a never-ending cycle._

" _This is the nature of the world. Like the Celtic Tree of Life, the Universe is cyclical. The branches become the roots become the trunk become the branches. The phoenix burns and is born again from the ashes. The snake eats its own tail; beginning where it ends."_

 _Fascinating._  The image of a snake eating its own tail was also said to be one of the images of infinity. And snakes seemed to be popping up quite a lot in her research of late. Hermione abandoned her book where it was and went in search of a book on the subject of that snake.

 _The Ouroboros,_ the book was called. Hermione flipped to the first page. It began by describing the image as a symbol of a cyclical eternity, and also anything originating at the beginning of the world and persisting immortally. She thought that was a strange concept. Had anything ever truly existed forever? But then she remembered the Myth of Eros and the idea that Love had been born from Chaos to create the world. She thought of Yin and Yang. " _These two begin together from a point of quiescence—of emptiness…"_ it had said, " _and they continue until quiescence is reached again."_  That thought was rather disturbing to Hermione. When Love had been born, had that also created Hate? Then something else caught her eye.

" _Cleopatra the Alchemist used the image of the Ouroboros to depict the cyclical nature of the Magnum Opus and the creation of the Philosopher's Stone."_

"You've got to be kidding me."

" _In Ancient Egypt, the snake biting its tail was a symbol of the disorder surrounding the world and periodically renewing it._ " Hermione shivered.  _From quiescence to quiescence,_  she thought. It was a symbol of Chaos; another serpentine Chaos Monster. She'd have to give that  _Serpents_  text another look.

" _In Greece, Plato described the first living being as a circular entity that ate itself and was immortal."_ Hermione squinted down at the page.  _Plato was a philosopher, not a scientist. Was this being a metaphor for something else?_ After all, no such being existed to this day (that she knew of) and it was described as 'immortal.'

" _In Gnostic texts, the image represents the soul of the world…", "The Mithran Mystery Cults of the Middle Ages saw the Ouroboros as a symbol of the immortality of the soul and the cyclical nature of Karma…constantly dying to be born again…", "Symbolizes the duality of nature and is often seen painted half black and half white, similar to the Taoist Yin-Yang…"_

"Hello, Hermione." The surprise of Luna's voice beside her jerked Hermione back to the present with an unsubtle yelp. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you. I only wanted to say hello." Hermione almost laughed aloud.

"It's ok, Luna. I just wasn't paying any attention."

"That's alright." The pretty Ravenclaw turned her eyes to the books on Hermione's table. "Oh, are you reading about Yin and Yang?" Her excitement was tangible as the slim blonde seated herself beside her Gryffindor friend.

"Oh… er… yeah. I was," Hermione fumbled.

"Nifty. Father's always talking about the Yin and Yang of the planets. It's really important to know about when you're trying to plan something important."

"Is that so?" Hermione always took Luna's words with more than a grain of salt.

"Oh, yes. Each of the planets is either Yin or Yang. Except some of them are both. Astrology is very useful." Not long ago, Hermione would have waved the girl's words away at the mention of Astrology. But lately, that had become an interesting topic to her.

"Do you know a lot about Astrology, Luna?"

"Certainly. As above, so below. As within, so without. As the universe, so the soul." Hermione blinked.

"What?"

"Why it's the Law of Correspondence, of course. The Universe goes through cycles, and we are part of the Universe."  _The cyclical nature of the Universe,_ Hermione thought. She could only shake her head. "Then there's the Law of Alchemy and the Law of Beginnings."

"The Law of Alchemy?" She could have laughed aloud.

"Yes. We each have all of the energies inside of us. The ones we suppress or deny are the ones that come back to haunt us."  _Like Voldemort and Love?_ "You have to take responsibility for your actions and let go of your fears if you want to find harmony. But whatever you try to ignore inside of you will manifest externally."

"Fascinating."

"And the Law of Beginnings says that the beginning of something holds all of its potential for the rest of its life and longer. All of our potential is there when we are first born. And all the potential of the Universe was there at the beginning as well."  _Chaos. Love; Hate._ She remembered her dreams. Looking through a window at a beautiful couple, and the baby in their arms was pure love.  _Harry._  He was standing on an altar, facing the father of all monsters. And he destroyed it with a sword of bravery. Because, like King Arthur, Harry deserved to win. He was doing it because it was the right thing to do; the final stage of Kohlberg's theory. And that was because he knew love, which Voldemort never would. Because he himself had suppressed it and denied its energy within him.

* * *

It was a risky move, but a vital one nonetheless. If Lucius was right, and Narcissa was warming up to him again, the slim chance of him turning from the dark lord would be destroyed completely. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Narcissa would be the first of the Malfoys to break faith. If she was given a reason.

All he could do was hope that this would not backfire and blow up in his face. He would have to be careful and clever if it was going to work. Good thing he was both.

"Severus," the beauty purred as she held out a hand for him to kiss like the queen she pretended to be.

"Narcissa," he responded affectionately, "you look well."

"That's sweet of you to say, Severus, but we both know it isn't true." He had no answer for that. Narcissa Malfoy was usually one for polite courtesies who preferred not to acknowledge the brutal truth of things. It made him uncomfortable that she was not acting herself when he was depending on his ability to read her in order to manipulate her. She did not give him the chance to respond. "These are difficult times," she said, sounding weary. "For all of us."

"Too true," he replied. She gestured him into her sitting room and offered him a cup of tea, which he accepted. "Black," he told her when she offered him cream and sugar. He was surprised to see her take hers the same way. Narcissa Black had always taken her tea with both like a prim lady, the way she took everything else. Narcissa Malfoy, he realized, was made of stronger stuff. A taste of her tea confirmed it.

"You have asked me not to tell my husband of this meeting. May I ask why not?" Straight and to the point, bolder than she had been last he saw her. Living with the dark lord did strange things to people. It toughened them.

Or broke them.

"Lucius would prefer for you not to know about the latest news concerning your son," he began, knowing that would spark her interest and put him automatically on her side.

"My son?" she asked, the glimmer of alarm in her voice.

"I am telling you this because, as his mother, I believe you have a right to know. But I do ask that you keep your knowledge of it a secret from Lucius. It would not do for him to be angry with me and he is already so upset by your recent… coldness toward him." She took a sip of her tea, slanting her eyes at him over the cup.

"I will not tell him," she vowed. "What has happened to my son?" Severus suppressed a sneer. It was a rare occurrence for something to happen _to_  Draco Malfoy. Usually, he was the one  _causing_  the happenings.

"You are aware of my current, shall we say,  _involvement_  with Hermione Granger?" She nodded, squinting her eyes. "It would seem that Draco forgot the initial purpose of the arrangement and deemed it necessary to explain to Mr. Potter the recent strange behavior of his bushy-haired friend." Narcissa's eyes grew wide, but she showed no other reaction. "I have striven to smooth over the worst of it, but the true threat lies with the dark lord. Were he to discover this blunder…" he paused, judging her reaction, "the boy would likely be killed." To her credit, the elegant blonde remained amazingly composed, though her complexion drained of color.

"What have you told the Potter boy?" she whispered. The fear was in her voice, not in the tone, but in the strength of it.

"I have convinced him that Albus Dumbledore is aware of the whole situation and using it to his advantage. I, his faithful spy, have been feeding the dark lord crafty lies, and protecting his friend in every way I know how." He sneered contemptuously. Those elegant eyes were focused on his intently, her expression unreadable.

"You will protect Draco?"

"Of course. I am his godfather and Lucius is my oldest friend." She took a sip of her tea, considering him. The look in her eyes made him feel uneasy. But if nothing else remained of the woman he knew, it was certain that she loved her son and husband more than anything else in the world. He did not doubt her loyalty to them.

"You like this girl." It was an accusation, not a question. He did not deny it. Dropping his eyes to his lap momentarily, he answered her with studied hesitance.

"She… has served me well," he told the woman. And to his surprise, she smiled.

"Has she?" she mocked and Severus shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I have never been one for the violence and impersonal nature of the revels, I confess. The girl is forced to obey my every command without question. It is only natural that I would become possessive." She  _tsk_ ed him gently, smiling a secret smile.

"Oh, Severus," she laughed, "you are so obvious." He kept his expression unreadable, but his heart pounded anxiously in his chest. "You care for the girl." She said it with certainty, and he knew he could not dissuade her. It unnerved him that the Malfoys had both seen how he felt about Granger. Was he so easy to read? He would need to be more careful. If the dark lord discovered this secret, she would be lost.  _Unless I rebelled._  The thought shook him to the core. Never had he considered that he might openly defy the dark lord. His place was by his side, and Albus's; a spy balancing carefully between two treacherous seas. The future of the Wizarding World depended on his determination not to break with that role.

When he met her eyes again, he could see her sweet concern. "Don't fret, Severus.  _He_  will never see it. He is not like me. Or  _you_. He is blind to love."  _Love? Now she talks of love?_ Severus swallowed. How had this conversation gone so far from its course? There was another issue at hand.

"I was hoping to speak to you about that." She raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"About your marriage and the recent troubles you've been experiencing." She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"I don't know what Lucius has told you, but there are always two sides."

"Of course," he allowed, feeling more comfortably in charge now.

"I know he can't just wave his wand and bring our old life back, but I can't pretend that I'm not unhappy, either. And I refuse to be complacent and allow our family to fall to ruins."

"I understand that," Severus said. And now came the truly difficult part. What he said now could have the effect he desired, or bring about disaster. "But you must consider, Narcissa, Lucius's loyalty is, first and foremost, to his family. Think of the dangerous position you have placed him in. If you continue to pull away from him, he may be tempted to desert the Cause." He let that sit in for a bare moment. "And that would be foolish," he finished, sure to sound concerned and not threatening. He hoped to the high heavens that Narcissa Malfoy was as sick of the dark lord as he believed her to be.

* * *

Hermione hesitated.  _Come to my office_ , the ring had said. It couldn't possibly be good news. But he was waiting. And besides, she hadn't seen him all weekend, since their Occlumency lesson Friday night. Merlin, that had been a disaster. Harry had fought his way through the entire lesson, Ron had made an ass of himself, provoking Snape's teasing which only made the Chosen One that much angrier. Ginny kept sending her lurid winks and she was pretty sure their professor had seen the other girl's memory of their chat in her bed. Then Malfoy had stood up for his turn and done magnificently to spite them all.

There was nothing for it. Embarrassed she might be, but she couldn't avoid him forever. There was only a few seconds' space between her knock and his answer, yet she managed to lose her breath all the same. When she pulled open the door, he was slashing a quill across some poor student's essay.

"Have a seat," he growled, not looking up from the parchment on his desk. She took the opportunity to look at him and brace herself for when those deep dark eyes inevitably turned on her. He looked tired, she decided. Of course, he always looked tired. But they had been through a lot in the past few days and she knew he bore the brunt of it, though she had to deal with her friends. At least they were on her side, although they didn't seem to understand that there really wasn't a  _her_  side and  _his_  side. She sighed at the thought. "Patience, Granger," he told her. Heat crept up her neck.

"No, I was just…"

"Quiet." She snapped her jaw shut and glared at him. By now he knew that she had to obey any command that he gave her. It was no excuse to say that he hadn't thought about it. But she couldn't stay mad. Truth be told, her heart ached for him. Even now that everyone else knew her secret and she had all the support in the world, she still wanted to be with  _him_. He set down his quill and leaned back in his chair, studying her. That inky stare made her heartbeat quicken and her breathing grow shallow as a pool of fire tightened in her belly.

"I have spoken with Lucius," he said at last. Somehow that phrase had come to have a completely different effect on her than it had before. A flush swept her skin and made her pleasantly uncomfortable. He sighed in resignation and leaned against the desk. "Granger, we cannot forget what our purpose is here."  _What?_  "You are my student and I am your teacher."  _Oh._  "Anything more is… wrong." She did not respond. "I apologize for taking advantage of your weakened state…" Hermione attempted to cut him off and realized that she was still incapable of speech. Fire burned in her eyes. "You are young and your hormones are new and overwhelming. You have no experience, so you have developed an… attachment to me that is… unhealthy. I am twice your age and a Death Eater besides." His eyes met hers.

"One day you will see that I am right. I would hate to think that you would look back and believe that I have taken advantage of your naiveté. When this war is over, the Curse will be broken and you will meet someone more… appropriate. A handsome youth with a bright future. For now, we will only do what we  _must_. And I hope that one day you can forgive me for my weakness. I never should have crossed that line."

The anger at not being able to respond had finally faded to be replaced by an overwhelming sadness and Hermione stared down at her knees. Her obvious affection made him feel guilty. Because he could never love her back. It didn't matter to her that he would always love Lily Evans. She knew now that she loved him regardless. And all that mattered was his happiness. But apparently her open affection made him uneasy. He could not enjoy her attentions when all he wanted was Lily.  _But I can't give him Lily._

"That being said," he continued when it was clear that she was not going to respond, "are you free tonight?" A tiny, sad laugh escaped her and she felt a rush of tears behind her eyes. But she would not let them come.

"Yes," she answered. She had come to learn that the commands he gave her were not hard to break. A direct question broke the compulsion to be quiet. Falling down broke the compulsion to maintain eye contact. It was quite reasonable. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered what would happen if he ordered her not to breathe. Would fainting break that command? Or would she suffocate?

"Good," he was saying. "I will call you at ten. Make sure you are alone."

Nine came quickly enough, but that last hour seemed to drag. She isolated herself from the others, not wanting them to know what was happening, for the shame. They saw her head up to her dormitory, but they did not know about his ability to call her to him at any time. That secret, at least, remained to her. She pulled on the familiar nightgown and stared at herself in the mirror.  _No_. She always wore that nightgown. This time, she would wear something different.

Her favorite soft grey shorts had been lost to the revel that night, but she pulled out some blue ones. She would wear them inside-out and maybe he would remember how she'd done that back at Grimmauld Place.  _If he notices._  She pulled off the nightgown and paused as she caught sight of her pristine white panties in the mirror. Perhaps she should wear the lace tonight.  _No,_  she told herself. Those are for a special occasion. Not for Lucius. Of course, if Snape got his way, they would never  _have_  a special occasion without Lucius.

Finally, she decided not to wear underwear. That was a good compromise, she decided, and wicked enough to shock Snape. Would he be aroused by her boldness? Or would he see through it and think her pathetic? She found that she didn't care. She was not wearing knickers, dammit, and bugger his reaction.

Only she really did hope that he liked it.

Braless, she slipped on a soft t-shirt and climbed into bed. That first time, she had landed in his bed in the same position she had been in in hers. Her lips quirked in a mischievous smile. She could have fun with this.

* * *

Severus sat on the end of his bed with his head in his hands. How had he come to this? There were five minutes remaining and already he was hard with anticipation.  _Pathetic_. He supposed a taste of sweet, young flesh left a man craving more. But he was lying to himself. Even Narcissa Malfoy had seen through that deception. And he had known it for a long time. Somehow, some way, Severus Snape had come to depend on the little Gryffindor girl. It was absurd. It was ludicrous. It was an abomination. And yet, it was true. He didn't just  _desire_  her. He cared for her.  _Deeply_. And it made him scared.

When the time came, he moved to sit against the headboard and waved his wand at the mirror before pressing it into his forearm. Part of him despised Lucius for making him do this.

And part of him loved the man.

* * *

Hermione landed with her face in the crotch of her professor's trousers. That had been her intention, and she had wanted it to be sexy, but the surprise of it caused her to laugh aloud into the fabric as she turned her face to his. He was clearly horrified and then just as obviously humiliated and she belatedly realized that he was already hard. The thought sent shockwaves of desire through her.  _He wants me._  But Severus Snape was a complicated man and his embarrassment only caused him to draw further into himself. She could feel his coldness as surely as she could feel his heat.

"Sorry Professor," she said, her face red as she smiled up at him. For once, it was to her advantage that he was playing to an audience. Rather than push her away, he did what Lucius would expect him to do: he began to unbutton his trousers. Hermione's breath came quick and a fiery tension grew between her legs with each button undone. She could smell the scent of him; a heavy, masculine scent that made her press against the mattress, demonstrating her need. One glance at those dark eyes told her that she was exciting him.

Those big cinnamon eyes were so full of mischief that he had no doubt she'd done it on purpose. He was at once angry and thrilled. But it was clear what he would have to do, and part of him was glad to punish her for her misbehavior, at the same time that he realized he'd be giving her exactly what she wanted; what he had already told her she couldn't have. But her apparent arousal was wearing down his resolve and he was quickly forgetting that this was strictly business.

When her little hand reached up to help him with his buttons, he almost moaned aloud. Was it so wrong for him to enjoy your youthful energy and sweet body thrumming with adolescent hormones if she was enjoying it too? And then her hand was around his cock and his head fell back against the headboard as she began to move it up and down the length of his shaft. Reality could wait. For the moment, he was in Heaven.

He was so hard and Hermione marveled at the power she had over him as she watched his head fall back in ecstasy. Oh yes, he wanted her. And he had wanted her. He just didn't want to admit it. Well that was fine. Somehow, some way, she would make him happy and appease his guilt at the same time. He needn't feel like he was using her. After all, this was strictly business. She grinned and lowered her mouth him.

When Severus felt the wet heat of her mouth close on the tip of his shaft he couldn't suppress the moan of agonized pleasure. She felt amazing. And when he looked at her, she was staring back at him, mischief in her eyes. Gods help him, she was enjoying this. Her mouth slid slowly down, taking him in until he could feel the softness of her throat, and then slipping back up to release his head with a wet  _pop._  He jerked involuntarily at the sensation and she grinned wickedly, lowering her head back down to him.

Hermione was amazed by the effect this slow torture was having on her own nerves. She quickened the pace, marginally, but maintained a teasing rhythm that made him growl. His legs were moving restlessly as she sucked and licked and teased his throbbing member, but he refused to buck against her. When, finally, his hand came up to tangle in her hair, she groaned deep in her throat at the victory and began to press against the mattress.

The chit was a wild woman. She took him as deep as he tried and then farther. Her moans of pleasure were all the encouragement he needed as his fingers curled around her hair and guided her faster and faster, deeper and deeper, harder and  _harder._  Looking down, he realized that she was still fully clothed. Well, a wave of his hand fixed that. And although he had only stripped her of her shorts and tee, she was suddenly naked before him. He groaned at the wonderful sight.

The chill air of the dungeons hit her skin and she suddenly knew what he had done. Fire traced across her spine and between her legs to settle in the brazier in her belly. His hands dipped down to cup her breasts and Hermione whimpered with need. Bringing a hand up to help her in her task, she sent another down between her legs to touch herself the way  _he_  had.

Severus had never felt anything so wonderful. She looked so beautiful and she felt so wonderful. And when he saw her snake a hand between her legs, it took all of his willpower to keep from coming in her mouth right then and there. "Merlin," he cried, pulling her away. "If you keep on like that I'm going to come."

"That's the idea," she told him, grinning. And though he tried to stop her, she would not be denied.

Hermione was so close to the edge. She would not let him halt her now. And as she slid her mouth over his hard cock until her jaw ached, she thrust hard against the fingers of her other hand.

Suddenly he was past the point of no return. There was no stopping it now. He was going to come. His body tensed as her mouth worked harder and faster to please him without his assistance. He tried to push her away, but she fought him back, her eyes glinting. And he succumbed. His head fell back against the headboard as he burst inside her mouth, waves of hot pleasure surging through him and emptying onto her eager tongue.

Hermione knew he was going to come when he tried to push her away, but she wanted to taste him. She wanted to see his eyes go wide when he realized that she was going to swallow his seed. And she was not disappointed. The agonized bliss of his expression sent her over the edge and she groaned around his pulsing cock as she came against the mattress. Wet electricity coursed through her loins as she shattered. She was tingling all the way to her tiptoes when she swallowed. He tasted salty and he moaned when she withdrew him from her mouth; clearly he was rather sensitive. It left her feeling sated and triumphant as she grinned up at him.

When the last tremors of pleasure faded away and Hermione swallowed his seed, Severus felt a rush of guilt. He hadn't meant to come into her mouth. "Forgive me," he said, meeting her gaze. He was going to explain, but she cut him off.

"For what? You didn't do anything." She grinned up at him, that spark of mischief still gleaming in her eyes.

"You're right. Let me pleasure you." Hermione pulled away and shook her head as it dawned on her that her professor didn't know that she had come. Better he didn't know, she decided.

"Don't be silly, Professor," she said sincerely. "What would Lucius think?" She had to suppress a grin as his hand waved toward the mirror, cancelling the charm.

"There," he said. "Come here." Hermione immediately obeyed, straddling her professor's lap. She wrapped arms around his neck and met his sated gaze evenly.

"We shouldn't," she whispered, turning her eyes away sheepishly. She began to grind against him and was surprised and thrilled to feel him hardening beneath her. She stopped. "We'd be crossing the line." She met his eyes again, expressing her sorrow only for an instant before turning away. "And as much as I would love to do that," she whispered, moving against him with only a ghost of the strength from before, "I would hate to go against your will just because you feel guilty." She tried to slip away, but he held her still with two strong hands tight on her thighs.

"I'd rather you went away satisfied. I'll feel worse if it's only me." She smiled sadly up at him.

"My pleasure was never part of the deal, Professor. Lucius got what he wanted. Tomorrow, you'll get the files Professor Dumbledore wanted. And then it's a closed deal. Everybody leaves happy." She let her smile droop a little as she tried to pull away again.

"I don't like it," he said, obviously out of arguments. She shrugged and gave a tired sigh.

"You don't have to like it. It's just business." With that, she slipped off of his lap, leaving him hard and alone. She took her time crawling off of the bed and turned dressing into a subtle strip-tease in reverse.  _Let him regret his decision. Let him change his mind._  "May I use your floo, Professor?" He nodded silently, still frozen in his place at the headboard. She imagined he'd stay that way for a little while, debating. At least, she hoped he would.

But as she slipped off to sleep that night, Hermione Granger was smiling happily. Because she had tricked the slyest man she'd ever met.

_And he wants me._


	30. Chapter 30

It was a chilly October afternoon as the Golden Trio made their way down to visit Hagrid before dinner. The crisp cold was a welcome respite from the heat of the Room of Requirement. Harry had decided to get the D.A. back together and their first lesson had left everyone exhausted. To be honest, Hermione wasn't sure how they were going to manage it all. Between real classes, Occlumency lessons, nightly patrols, Quidditch for the boys and Snape duties for her, they were already running out of time. An essay was due for Flitwick tomorrow, one for Transfiguration the next day, and even the Brains of the Golden Trio was behind on their reading for Binns. But, as Harry reminded her, the D.A. was of utmost importance. They would just have to find a way.

By the time they reached Hagrid's hut, the chill had penetrated their thin robes and the warmth of the half-giant's hearth was an inviting beacon of comfort. "Was wond'rin' when you'd come an' visit me," Hagrid was saying. "Yer lucky I happen ter have some cakes ready." All three winced at the prospect of the rock cakes, but Hagrid didn't notice.

"How have you been, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, delaying her first bite of the petrified pastries.

"Oh, well 'nuff. I 'spect you lot've been busy too what with this bein' yer final year an' all."

"Yeah, we have," Harry admitted with a sullen look at Hermione. "And there's Quidditch besides. That takes up most of our free time."

"O' course it does," Hagrid agreed. "Gryffindor'll win that trophy again, I've no doubt." Hagrid laughed and then frowned down at the untouched rock cakes. Hermione took the hint and lifted one to her mouth, near chipping a tooth in the process. "Are ya excited 'bout Halloween?" Three wrinkled brows answered him.

"That's not for a couple of weeks, yet," Harry told him.

"Oh sure, sure. But ol' Horace Slughorn's havin' a Masquerade. 'Aven't you heard?" They shook their heads. "You bes' start working on yer costumes. I hear there's ter be prizes fer the best ones." In years past, that may have inspired excitement in the now-sullen Trio, but they all had far too much on their minds to worry about a costume contest. "Why so down, ay? From the look o' it, you lot could use a bit o' cheer."

"There'll be cheer when the war's over," Harry muttered gloomily.

"Oh, yeah, you three've been through a lot this year, 'aven't you? Hermione especially, I understand." All three heads popped up at that pronouncement. "Don' worry. I'm not gonner tell. It's right lucky Professor Snape was there ter safe you, though." Harry jumped up angrily.  _Oh no._ Just when she had thought that he was getting over it all…

"Oh yeah," he seethed, "real  _lucky_."

"Harry, stop it," she told him in a hushed tone. The last thing she needed was someone else knowing her secret. Hagrid looked confused.

"Well… the way I understand it, she woulda prolly been killed if 'e 'adn't shown up." Harry didn't seem to hear him. He was staring moodily out the little window that faced the school. The other three exchanged confused glances, but Hermione was worried that Harry was about to give her away.

"Snape's a right evil git," the dark-haired boy was saying. Hagrid frowned.

"Now Harry, Professor Snape is an Order member. It's 'is job to protect you three. I know he looks scary, but Professor Snape is a lot like Norbert…" Ron snorted and began to choke on his rock cake.

"Your pet dragon?" Harry spat.

"O' course! You remember Norbert. Well, 'is fire an' teeth an' all were just fer show. An' beneath all that, he was sweet as one o' my cakes." Harry and Ron gaped in repulsion at their big, hairy friend, but Hermione had to suppress a laugh. Crazy as it was, Hagrid had pretty much hit the nail on the head, in his own strange way. "After all, 'e's the one who told me 'bout all that. 'She'll need comforting,' 'e said, 'She's been through a lot.'"

" _Snape_  said that?" Ron snarled, still coughing.

"O' course," Hagrid beamed. "I tol' you. 'E's a Hogwarts Professor. 'E cares about 'is students." Ron gave Hermione a wicked side-ways glance.

" _Some_  of his students," he mumbled. She twisted the ring on her finger and bit back an angry retort.

The trip back to the castle was even icier than the way there, but that probably had more to do with her friends' angry silence than the setting of the sun behind the trees. Supper awaited them in the Great Hall and once again Hermione's spirits were lifted. Supper was one of the few times she ever saw their dark professor. And she found herself wondering when he had gone to Hagrid and why he had asked him to comfort her. Was it really so difficult for him to comfort her himself? She sighed. That was the price she paid for falling in love with their unfeeling Defense instructor. Damn him.

Dinner was a chore. Harry and Ron were still ignoring her and it took all of her willpower to keep from staring up at the Head Table. Her professor, she noticed, was having no trouble avoiding  _her_  gaze. Oh well,  _bugger him_. Severus Snape slipped out of the Great Hall long before the pudding was served and Hermione had to restrain herself against following him. It would not do, she told herself. She couldn't keep throwing herself at him like that. And so, she forced herself to wait until Ginny and the boys left and followed them out of the Hall.

They had barely set foot in the Common Room when Neville Longbottom came running down the stairs from the boys' dorms, wide-eyed and pale-faced. He ran straight over to his roommates. "Harry, Ron, I didn't know what to do. There's a dog in your bed, Harry. It's curled up asleep, but it's really big. I didn't want to wake it." They all exchanged knowing looks and Harry told Neville to stay down in the Common Room while they went to check it out. He tried to get Ginny and Hermione to stay with him, but they refused.

One glance at the creature on Harry's bed confirmed their suspicions. Hermione's heart began to pound. If Sirius Black was at Hogwarts, that could only mean bad news. Without a word to one another, they climbed into Harry's bed and pulled the curtains tight around them. Only then did the big dog slip under the covers and transform. Suddenly, a naked Sirius was sitting in the middle of the bed, covering the important parts with the comforter. Hermione wrinkled her nose, glad it wasn't  _her_  comforter.

"Sirius!" Harry cried cheerfully, swinging his arms around his godfather. Hermione immediately threw a  _Muffliato_  and warded the bed against intruders.

"Harry!" Sirius responded in kind. "It's so good to see you! I was so bored in that dusty old house without the likes of you three." His eyes turned on Hermione and she felt her cheeks grow warm.  _Oh Merlin, this cannot be good._

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked him.

"Does a man need an excuse to visit his godson?" Harry laughed happily at that and Hermione had to admit that it was good to see him smile. But still, what they were doing was dangerous. It was risky for Sirius to be out of the house at all, but to be hanging out with Harry Potter at Hogwarts? He must have been insane.

"Sirius," she whispered when there was a lull in the excitement, "does Dumbledore know you're here?" Sirius's smile drooped.

"Oh, Hermione," he chided, setting a big hand on her shoulder, "one day you'll learn that there's more to life than rules and procedures." The condescension in his tone infuriated her, but she dared not let him see.

"Harry," she murmured, "can I speak with you a minute?"

"In a moment, Hermione. We haven't seen Sirius in ages!" She ground her teeth to keep from screaming at him.

"No," she growled angrily, "Now." Harry's smile faded and he sighed in exasperation.

"I'll be right back," he told his godfather. "This better be quick, Hermione." She took him out into the hallway and cast a  _Muffliato_  before saying a word.

"Harry, don't you realize how dangerous this is for him? If he were caught…"

"He's not going to  _be_  caught. He's going to stay in my room the whole time and no one has to know." She twisted the ring on her finger.

"That's not true, Harry. Have you forgotten about Professor Snape? Even if I'm not forced to tell him, he'll see it in our Occlumency lesson tomorrow." Harry paled at that. And then his anger returned full force.

"That  _bastard!_ " he hissed under his breath. "He ruins everything!"

"Well it's not his fault you can't Occlude him," Hermione spat back angrily.

"Don't you stand up for him! It's bad enough you're letting him fuck you, but now you're  _defending_  him too?"

"Stop it, Harry! You know it's not like that! It's ridiculous how biased you are against him. If you only opened your eyes, you would see how much he's done for us. Much more than Sirius ever did." That was going too far.

"Sirius is my godfather! He was my dad's best friend! And he  _would_  have killed Wormtail if  _Snape_  hadn't shown up and ruined everything! Again!"

"Oh yeah, and who was it who pushed us behind him when Lupin turned into a werewolf? Snape!"

"That's funny. I seem to recall Sirius running Lupin off and fighting him while Snape did  _nothing_. And how did he repay him? By taking him to be kissed by a dementor!"

"Snape only hated Sirius because he thought he'd been a You-Know-Who supporter!" That wasn't the exact truth, but she couldn't very well tell Harry about Snape's love for his mother.

" _Snape_  hated  _Sirius_  because he was my dad's best friend and Snape hated my dad."

"And why did he hate your dad, Harry?"

"Because… because…" Harry was searching for the answer, but if Hermione didn't know better, she'd think that Harry was struggling not to tell her something. "For the same reason that Malfoy hates me! He's a Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor."

"That's  _ridiculous_ , Harry."

"Oh yeah? Well why don't you run off and tell your Master, then, Hermione? Go tell him about Sirius since you're so keen on taking his side. And then you can whisper in his ear about how great he is because I sure as hell don't want to hear it. Maybe he'll reward you, too. Maybe he'll even let you suck his…" The door to the boys' dorm banged open and the fighting friends both jumped away in shock. Ginny was in the doorway.

"What's taking you guys?" she asked and they both seemed to deflate at that.

"Nothing," Harry told her, leaving Hermione to rejoin the others in his bed. Tears came unbidden to her eyes and she spun away from the worried red-head, sweeping down the stairs and not stopping until she was alone in her own room. There, she slipped into her soft shorts and a t-shirt and climbed into bed. Harry's words still rung in her ears and she wept at the truth of it. Even telling herself that Harry didn't know Professor Snape the way she did made no difference. It sounded like a feeble excuse and made her choke on the fact that even Snape wasn't really on her side.  _Damn him_ , she thought _, Damn them all!_

She twisted the ring on her finger. How many times had she twisted that ring? How many nights had she waited idly by, unable to concentrate on her work, wishing he would send her a message? Damn that insufferable connection to all that she could not have! She ripped the ring from her finger and flung it away. But the dull impact of gold against the dark red curtains did not bring her any satisfaction. And the clink of metal on the stone of the floor sounded hollow to her ears. Defeated and weak, she curled up beneath the sheets and sobbed angrily into her pillows.

* * *

Each day without Hermione felt like another step down toward the darkness of his former life. It was his own decision to put distance between them. After all, it was frightening how much power he had allowed her to have over him. And that was how people got hurt, wasn't it? It had been his experience that caring for someone inevitably led to pain and suffering. So, why was it that the distance between them was the cause of his pain?

He strode briskly through the hedge-lined path toward Malfoy Manor and idly wondered if Hermione worried about him when he was summoned. It was comforting, somehow, that they were still connected, no matter how far apart. And that that insufferable, bushy-haired chit would be waiting up for him; not sleeping until he alerted her to his return. Even if he wouldn't see her afterwards.

The circle was gathered by the time Severus stepped through those dark, forbidding doors. He was usually the last to arrive, because he was the only one who had to slip away and reach an apparition point first. It helped that the dark lord believed his apparition point was all the way outside the gates to the castle grounds. In reality, all he had to do was sweep up a flight of steps into that cave, but it gave him time to alert Albus and Granger of his departure.

"Ah yess, Severuss," the dark lord teased. His tardiness was a joke that never grew old for his jealous brothers. They chuckled as he took a knee. "Risse," lord Voldemort commanded, and Severus obeyed. "We have just been discussing your little toy." A cold shiver swept down Severus's spine, but he showed no reaction. "Do you have any newss for usss?" Thankfully, Severus had plenty to tell his master this time. He had made that mistake before, and would not make it again.

"Yes, my lord," he began humbly, "It seems the boy is reforming a Defense club to practice dueling in his spare time. It is a shabby group of his most loyal supporters." He sneered to show the Death Eaters just what he thought of that. "The boy does well enough in his classes with me, but he is nothing spectacular." His brothers smirked at that pronouncement. "The club was formed under the Headmaster's instructions to the boy. Apparently, he wants the students to look to Potter as a sort of leader." More smirks. "But the group is made up of younger students and weaker ones. Potter will learn nothing from them, but will grow arrogant as he continues to defeat each one with ease. He is his father's son. But he still listens to Miss Granger's advice with the ear of a young boy who doesn't know what to do. With her, we control his actions to a certain extent."

Across the circle, Severus caught the eye of Lucius Malfoy and quickly looked away. It was an obvious lie if one knew what Lucius knew, but Severus counted on his friend's love for his family not to say a word. When he chanced another glance at his fair-haired brother, the aristocrat's features had twisted from confused suspicion to knowing smirk. He could only hope that that was a good thing.

* * *

She woke in the dark and almost cried out at the sight of two yellow eyes glinting in the dim light of her bedchamber. The dog was bracing his forepaws on the mattress, staring at her. "What are you doing?" she whispered. And he jumped up onto her bed, slipping under the sheets and turning around to lie down with his head on her pillow. In an instant, he was changed and the eyes of Sirius Black stared back at her through the darkness. She knew that he was naked beneath the sheets, and pulled farther away from him. To her dismay, he seemed to think that she was making space for him, and quickly filled the gap.

"Forgive me, Hermione," he murmured. She reached for her wand and cast a  _Muffliato_  so that no one would hear the voice of a man in her bed. "I was worried about you. You left so abruptly earlier. I hope I didn't offend you." She wanted to glare at him, but just didn't have the strength. Instead, she merely sighed.

"It's just… it's dangerous for you to be here. If you were caught… who knows what would happen."

"And who's going to catch me?" he whispered back, grinning. Then his hand came up and brushed away the tearstains on her cheek. He frowned. "You've been crying." That simple gesture brought unbidden thoughts of her recent inner turmoil to her mind. And with them came more tears. She tried to turn her face into the pillow, but he stopped her with a hand at her chin. Then, both of his hands were cupping her face and she met his worried eyes. Could it be that he was just concerned for her?

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "It's just… lately no one has been on my side. I feel like I'm losing my friends." It was a hard admission, and one that she had not been able to give anyone else. He frowned, his hand slipping into her hair and running circles along her temple.

"We all go through tough times. I spent twelve years in Azkaban, knowing that everyone who ever loved me now believed me a traitor. Most of them still do. Except for Harry, and the rest of you. Is it any wonder, then, that I would seek out your company? Rather than rot in my parents' house where I never knew real love?" Hermione had not thought about it like that. More tears came to her eyes at the thought that perhaps she had pinned him wrong. He understood more than anyone else what she was going through. Even Snape— _bastard—_ clearly had no sympathy for her. It was his fault that she was all alone, after all.

But she was not alone. Not now. Sirius was here. He gave her a sad smile and kissed her forehead, then withdrew his hands from her hair and allowed one to rub her upper arm gently. Part of her felt guilty, knowing that Snape would be furious if he knew what she was doing, and part of her felt wickedly empowered by the same notion. And so, she allowed his gentle touch. For now.

"How did you do it?" she wondered aloud. "How did you survive the injustice of it for so long?" He propped his head up on his elbow as his other arm draped lazily over her waist.

"It was terrible," he admitted. "At first I pleaded every day, but dementors don't listen. They don't understand. They only knew that I had sadness they could draw on and happiness that they could suck away. Then, for years I simply existed. There was nothing else for it. But when I caught sight of Peter in that article from the Prophet, my fury took over. It gave me the strength I needed to escape. Because for the first time in twelve years, I knew where the true culprit was. And I could prove myself an innocent man." He smiled lazily at her. The fact that he had never done that hung in the air between them, and Sirius's face darkened. "It doesn't even matter so much that I haven't been acquitted. Harry knows I'm innocent. And I have the Order. And Dumbledore… And you." Hermione's startled eyes met his and he laughed lightly. "If it hadn't been for your time-turner, Hermione, I'd be a soulless sack of bones right now."

His hand began to run circles on her lower back and the daring of it took her breath away. Professor Snape had never caressed her like this. He had never demonstrated his attraction for her, except for Lucius's benefit. There was that one morning, she remembered, but he had pulled away in disgust and guilt at the end and later lectured her about how they should only do what they had to do.  _Bastard._  But Sirius's touch made her feel beautiful, even if she didn't want him the way she wanted Professor Snape. "I owe you my life, Hermione," he was saying, his voice a low purr.

"Don't be silly," she told him. "You don't owe me anything."

"Oh, but I do," he murmured sweetly. "I just want you to know, Hermione," his words caressed her name in such a way that it sent shivers down her spine. She tried to imagine how it would sound in Snape's deep baritone. "You can always come to me, for anything. You understand? If you ever need, or want…  _anything_." In the back of her mind, Hermione knew that she should have pushed him away by now, but the gentle hand at her back was running soothing circles and his voice was so gentle and comforting. She allowed her eyes to close and imagined he was  _Severus_. And peace fell over her at last as her mouth turned up in a smile. And Hermione drifted off to peaceful sleep.

* * *

She dreamed that the war was over and her NEWTS were past and the rings they wore were wedding bands. They had sailed away from everything together and were all alone. Finally, in another land, in another bed, they lay curled next to each other. Finally, he was able to tell her truly that he wanted her, and they were free to make love. They answered to no one.

And when sleep finally fell away in the rested morning, she snuggled into the hot flesh against her own. And when his lips pressed against hers, she answered them with all the tenderness she felt. And his mouth opened over hers. And his tongue swept inside. And she moaned against him, opening her legs for him as he moved on top of her. She could feel his stiff erection on her bare inner thigh. There was such passion; such unabashed desire in the way he rubbed against her. And she whimpered into his mouth as his hand eagerly grasped at her breast. And when she lifted herself to him, his groan of pleasure was in the wrong voice.

Hermione's eyes snapped open in belated awareness of her folly as Sirius pressed her hard into the mattress. Her plea to stop was swallowed by his eager mouth as he moved above her, fondling her breast through the thin fabric of her shirt. She tried to push him away, but he only whimpered against her, thrusting harder and faster against her thigh. She pulled her mouth from his as he began to pant. "No, Sirius, stop!" she managed in a strangled voice, but he paid her no heed. Gripping her waist he thrust against the junction between her legs, grinding roughly against her and groaning in agonized ecstasy. His face contorted in pain and bliss as he pressed desperately against her, despite her efforts to pull away and he growled aloud, gasping with the force of his release as hot seed spilled onto her thigh.

When he slumped on top of her, she tried to push him away, hot tears spilling onto her cheeks. He grunted and lazily lifted his eyes to hers. "Sorry," he laughed. It was too late. What was done was done and she pushed against him, unrelenting. "Forgive me, Hermione, you have to understand…"

"Get off," she growled, but he only reached for her face, trying to turn her eyes to his.

"Please, just listen. I've been away from women for so long. Years and years. You can't imagine. I never meant to… I just couldn't help… you're so beautiful and young…" She supposed she was lucky he hadn't flat-out raped her.

"Get off!" she shouted and his eyes flew open as he scrambled to sit back on his heels.

"Please, Hermione. Forgive me. I should have been more gentle. I wanted to. I wanted to show you what it is to make love. But my body took over because I just needed you so badly. But I promise… next time won't be so…"

"Next time?" Hermione was indignant. "There won't  _be_  a next time! Get out of my bed!" She was thankful for the  _Muffliato_  she had placed around her curtains, but at this point she probably would have been yelling either way. Sirius almost tripped out of her bed at that, turning back into a dog as he leapt from her curtains. And Hermione paused only to  _Scourgify_  herself before bending her head to her knee and weeping.

With Sirius gone, Hermione jumped out of bed and felt around the floor for Snape's ring. When she found it, she crawled back into bed and held it to her breast. What they had done felt like betrayal. Even if she hadn't meant for anything to happen, she should have been more careful. She never should have fallen asleep. Hell, she should have tossed him out the moment he came to her. And the terrible truth of it was that she  _had_  wanted to hurt Snape. Just a little. Had she already forgotten her decision to love him no matter how little he cared for her? Damn her for being a weak and pathetic woman. Damn her for needing his love in return.

She removed the  _Disillusionment_  charm on the ring, just to look at it.  _I am back,_  the inscription read and a horrible pang of guilt overtook her. She never should have taken off that ring! All that time, while she was cuddling with Sirius, Snape had been with the dark lord, risking his life for the Cause. And she hadn't even known! Holding the ring and hating herself, Hermione sobbed until she had no more tears to cry.

 _Oh Merlin,_  she thought,  _how am I ever going to make up for this?_


	31. Chapter 31

Severus stared down at the little group of students. Not one of them dared to meet his gaze. That in itself was not unusual at the beginning of an Occlumency lesson, but there was something strange about the air around them, as if they were sharing some secret. Well, this was the time and place to discover such secrets. What unnerved him was the inclusion of his godson in this studied avoidance, though he wasn't sure if he was behaving that way for the same reason or not.  _He is the biggest threat,_  Severus decided.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he drawled. "Perhaps you'd care to go first, this lesson?" He knew Draco could not back down in front of the Gryffindors and happily took advantage of that fact whenever he could.

"Certainly, Professor." The boy moved to stand before his godfather and bravely met his gaze.

"Alright," Severus intoned, warning the boy as he raised his wand, " _Legilimens!_ "

Draco's mind was a whirl of chaos, but Severus had a hunch of what could be behind the boy's sudden silence. He subtly suggested the image of his parents and a letter immediately swam into view only to be stuffed away again. But it was too late. Severus had already seen the parchment and could easily recall it to the forefront of Draco's mind. Holding it there, the letters tried to change and shift and most of it was a blur. But one phrase stood out, and a whisper of it sang through the boy's mind in his mother's voice. " _I would be interested to know how the girl feels about him in return._ "

Severus immediately withdrew from his mind and black eyes met frightened blue ones. For a moment, neither said a word. There was nothing to be said that could be said in front of the others.  _Especially her._  Then, before the rest of the room could grow curious, Severus cleared his throat. "Once the Legilimens has found the memory you wish to conceal, your best move would be to eject them completely from your mind. It is less subtle than deception, but far easier and no less effective if you have any chance of escaping your foe." Draco swallowed nervously and nodded.

Severus abruptly turned on the other students and delighted in their simultaneous flinches. " _Potter,"_ he growled. "Your turn." Potter paled and swallowed, glancing at his friends for support; obviously sharing his nervousness with those who knew his secret. Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but contented himself with a glance in Miss Granger's direction. She caught his eye and blushed horribly, her eyes widening with fear.  _She knows I know._  It was with satisfaction that he turned on the Potter boy and raised his wand. " _Legilimens!_ "

Potter's mind was remarkably calm, but Severus would not be fooled. Perhaps Granger had given them advice before the lesson. He probed for a secret and the calm façade erupted immediately in a swirl of memories. Not surprising. Potter never had been particularly strong. But nothing specific was apparent. He probed again and could sense Potter's desperation to keep his secret safe. But Severus pricked at that thought and drew it forth and suddenly a memory swam into view.

The edges were blurred, but the image in the center was Hermione Granger seated at a desk. The voice of Ron Weasley thundered across his consciousness with angry venom.  _"_ You _don't be stupid, Hermione! He's the greasy git! And you're sleeping with him?! I can't believe you fell for that! I can't believe you're still on his side! What are you, in love with him?!"_  And the girl just stared, blinking back at him, unable to answer. He lingered in the boy's mind long enough to see her face flush and hear Potter's angry interjection of " _Gods, Hermione!_ " And then he withdrew.

Once again, Severus found himself staring into his opponent's eyes, unable to say a word. But these eyes were green and shaped like almonds. And the accusation and anger was tempered by guilt. It was all too familiar a sight.  _She just didn't know what to say,_  he told himself.  _She was taken off guard and didn't know how to answer._  "You are showing improvement, Potter. It took me a few seconds longer to find your memory this time." He sneered down at the boy, refusing to acknowledge the information he'd been given. "Next!" he shouted, smirking as the boy winced and turning to look down at his cowering students. "Weasley," he growled, watching both Weasley's flinch and grinning maliciously. It never got old. " _Mr._  Weasley."

The boy faced him like a deer in the headlights with ashen complexion and wide-eyes. " _Legilimens!_ " Before Severus could even get his bearings in the boy's mind, he felt himself being shoved out of it. When his own eyes met the fright-widened orange-fringed ones of the Weasley boy, his shock twisted into censure. "Haven't you been listening, Weasley? Forcing the Legilimens out is only a last resort when subtler approaches fail." But it was clear that the boy knew he couldn't keep his secret that way, and it seemed far more important than the mere possibility that the girl had feelings for himself. "Again," he told the boy, raising his wand, " _Legilimens!_ "

He was surrounded by waves of panic and the loud resounding voice of Ronald Weasley whining one phrase repeatedly: " _Don't think of it. Don't think of it."_  Severus would have smirked. " _What is it?"_ he whispered, and an image came immediately to the surface of the boy's mind to a chorus of " _Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!_ " It was a dorm room, Gryffindor if the scarlet curtains were any indication. And for a moment, Severus feared that he was about to see Hermione in bed with one of the boys. But what he did see came as more of a shock, and he growled in anger as the dog became a naked Sirius Black.  _How dare he!_

And then his own angry eyes were staring into Weasley's horrified blue ones. The boy's mouth twisted in gaping fear as he turned back to his friends. Understanding dawned in their eyes even as it filled his own awareness.  _This_  was their secret. In other circumstances he might even be impressed with Potter's deception. But at the moment, he felt nothing but fury. "Draco," he growled, his anger seething through every syllable, "you are dismissed. I have a few things to say to your classmates." The Slytherin didn't have to be told twice, but it was clear from his reluctant expression that he was desperately curious. When the boy had gone, Severus warded the door and turned back to his cowering students.

* * *

Professor Snape was already furious and Hermione knew this was only the tip of the iceberg. She had been terribly surprised and delighted when Harry somehow eluded the dark professor, but even the elation at that accomplishment was trumped by the fact that there were three of them left to reveal it. The moment Ron stood up, she knew it was the end. She knew that Snape would be angry that she hadn't told him, but Harry would have been mad if she'd snitched and Snape was bound to be furious with her soon anyway. At least now Harry couldn't be angry with her too.

For a long moment, their professor said nothing. Then, his lips peeled back in a horrible, satisfied sneer. He began pacing, clearly contemplating one horrible move after the next. Finally, he came to stand in front of them and folded his arms. The evil smirk that twisted his lips did not bode well. It boasted of triumph.

"Granger," he snarled and Hermione's pulse leapt painfully in her chest. "Fetch the dog and bring him to the Headmaster's office. We'll meet you there." Hermione's body began to obey even as the implications of the demand brought a look of horror to her face. She glanced helplessly at her friends as she headed toward the door, but they were powerless to help her.

"Please, Professor," she whimpered as she opened the door. But he just smirked back, unrelenting.  _Oh gods,_  Hermione thought,  _This is a disaster!_

She found Sirius curled up in Harry's bed. He perked up at her sudden appearance and started to slip under the covers to change. "No," she told him, "Stay a dog. Come with me." He looked wary, and she knew he had good reason. This was not going to be easy. "Hurry," she told him, "Harry and Ron are waiting." That seemed to convince him well enough and he began to follow her from the room. It was a long walk to the Headmaster's office and Hermione found herself thinking how lucky she was that the dog couldn't talk to her. He slowed as they reached the winding staircase, but he did not turn back. At the door, Hermione would have hesitated if she had not been compelled to complete her task.

Once inside, the black dog bared his teeth and growled angrily at the dark professor. "Down, dog," Snape told him, and the door was closed and warded before he could escape. Sirius changed on the spot, not bothering with his nakedness. And as Hermione turned away to hide her eyes, she saw Ginny's blatant and appraising stare. That image stirred a bout of nervous laughter and Hermione began to choke into her palm. It was all so perfectly horrible.

"Don't give me commands,  _Snivellous!_ "

"Now Sirius," the Headmaster interjected, "there's no reason to fight…"

"No reason to fight?" Sirius echoed incredulously. It was obvious from his tone that he was prepared to argue that sentiment, but the Headmaster cut him off.

"Sirius, take my cloak, you must be freezing. Come, sit. We'll have a little chat. Severus, your presence is no longer required." Professor Snape did not look happy about that, but he complied with a little nod of his head and a muttered ' _As you wish, Headmaster._ '

When he was gone, Dumbledore turned back toward the rest. They made their confessions and then the Headmaster dismissed them to speak with Sirius alone. Hermione knew he must be angry with her, but it was unfounded. Of course, she couldn't tell him that. And why did she care if he was angry, anyway? But she did.

That night, Hermione spread out in her bed, twisting the ring on her finger and wondering when she should tell Snape about the other morning;  _if_  she should tell him.  _Don't be foolish, of course you're going to tell him._  She sighed. He'd find out one way or another, and it'd better come from her, and she'd better not wait too long.  _Perhaps I should give him a chance to cool down…_  But that was folly and she knew it. In the first place, Snape hadn't actually been mad about Sirius. To the contrary, he had seemed quite delighted to bring him down.  _Like a tattle-tale on a playground._  Men. Hermione shook her head. She should go ahead and get it over with. It was Friday and if she did it now, he'd have the whole weekend to get over it before she saw him again.

Sighing, Hermione removed the  _Disillusionment_  from her ring and stared down at it.  _What if he murders me?_  She brought the tip of her wand to its surface before thinking to check the time. What if he was sleeping? But it was only ten. She had to laugh at that.  _Why is it always ten?_  Finally, swallowing her fears, she touched her wand to the flawless gold.  _Can I talk to you?_  she inscribed, and then she bit her lip and waiting for his response. An eternity seemed to pass before she felt the ring grow warm and her fear only seemed to intensify.  _Are you alone?_  it said, and she swallowed the tightening knot of nerves in her throat. That could only mean one thing: he was going to call her. Hesitating, she took a fortifying breath before touching her wand against the ring once more and inscribing ' _Yes.'_

A moment later, she was jerked from her surroundings, landing in her professor's lap with a startled gasp. "Forgive me," he murmured cheerfully, setting his glass of fire whiskey on the table beside his reading chair as she clumsily removed herself from his person. "I can't control  _where_  you land," he told her as she settled in another chair. Oh yes, he was in a good humor. She really hated to break it, and the presence of alcohol did not bode well. Perhaps it would be best to discern how drunk he was before she spoke with him.

"No, forgive  _me_ ," she replied, "I didn't mean to interrupt your celebration." She gestured at the glass and he laughed lightly.

"Relax," he told her, "I've only had a little. And besides, I think I have a bit more self-control than you do, my dear." He was teasing her, but the comment stung considering her bad tidings. And yet, she had to smile at the sound of his deep voice, teasing her, laughing, calling her 'my dear.' It really was such a shame that she had to ruin it. Perhaps she should wait until tomorrow. "What did you want to talk about?" he asked her, casually.  _Oh Merlin, I have to decide now._

"It's nothing good," she said, "and not urgent. I'd hate to spoil your mood." But his face was already darkening and she knew he would press her until she admitted it.

"Tell me," he commanded, and she was not sure if he'd done it intentionally or not.

"Sirius came to me last night," she told him. That was only the beginning, but it was the broadest essence of it and she felt the compulsion slip. She hesitated. Fury already burned in those deep dark eyes as he took a sip of his drink.

"Go on," he told her, his voice dangerous and deep.

"He was just trying to comfort me and I had had a fight with Harry and you weren't talking to me and I really thought that was all he wanted, just to comfort me. And it felt so good to have someone there just listening to me and…" she broke off at the look in his eyes. When he did not speak, she continued. "And I fell asleep." She was trying to prepare herself for what she would have to say next; how she could possibly explain what had happened. Depending on how she worded it, he might kill Sirius. But she was saved the trouble as he lunged toward her. There was fear and anger in his eyes as he slid a knee beside her on the chair and held her head with both hands mere inches from his face.  _No!_  If he saw how she had kissed Sirius back and pressed against him, he would never understand. With that in mind, when she felt his presence, she showed him the dream she'd had first.

Hermione cringed internally as the memory replayed in her mind's eye. The dream revealed too much and then she was awake, and she could not stop the episode from unfolding before him. His anger was tangible as he watched her kissing Sirius, letting him touch her, rising to meet him as he thrust desperately against her. There was an air of betrayal and hurt that brought tears to her eyes even as they reached the part where she discovered the true identity of her bed partner.

Then there was anger; fury; rage beyond anything she had ever felt for anyone. As she pushed Sirius away, somewhere in the back of her mind she felt Snape's fingers biting into her scalp. And When Sirius came against her thigh, she thought her head might explode from the combined pressure of his hands and his anger. But it did not end there, and even her rejection of Sirius did not assuage his fury.

He withdrew from her mind with a force that left her lightheaded, and he swept from her to pace angrily across the room. The glass on the little table burst of its own accord as he passed, but he did not seem to notice, even as Hermione flinched away from the flying shards. "I'll kill him," Snape growled and he made for the floo.

"No!" Hermione shouted, leaping up to stop him before he could fulfill that urge. And in that moment she had no doubt that he would. "Please, Professor!" She grabbed his arm, but he flung her away.

"You are only the cherry on top of a list of grievances, Hermione. This has been an inevitable eventuality since before you were born." His use of her name gave her pause. Why was it that he only ever used it when he was distressed? But then, he probably hadn't even realized it.  _Perhaps that's why._  And then he was reaching for the floo powder and she hurried to stop him. Swinging her body around his, she caught him dead on and held him there in an attempt to keep him from reaching it. But he easily peeled her from his frame.

"Stay out of my way." he growled and Hermione immediately obeyed, scurrying back to sit before his chair and watch with tearful eyes. This was folly. She should have seen it coming. He was going to kill Sirius and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Please!" she called as he reached into the powder and withdrew a handful. Desperation clawed at her painfully, but she could not move. "Please, don't!" And then he had tossed the powder down and green flames burst to life in the old fireplace. "Severus!" she cried; her voice a panic. And the room went still. And the fire died. And he turned to look at her with an expression that was part anger, part disbelief, and part fear. Her breath caught in her throat. But she suddenly knew that he was not going to say anything. Now was her only chance to keep him from stepping through that fireplace and destroying his long-time foe. "Please," she whispered, letting him see her anguish and fear. She reached a hand out to him and his glare turned hard and cold. And he headed toward her.  _Oh gods!_  It was all she could think as the dark professor advanced on her, but at least he wasn't heading off to kill Sirius. Although, he may very well be about to kill  _her_.

"You dare, Miss Granger?" he seethed when he was standing above her. "You  _presume?_ "

"No," she whimpered, "I…"

"Quiet!" he commanded. "I am your  _professor!_  You are my  _student!_  Any relations we may have had outside of that were strictly in the interests of the Order of the Phoenix. I am not your  _lover_ , Miss Granger, and you have no power over me." Hermione's heart was pounding with fear at his words, but as they resounded within her, the injustice of it all seemed to rattle and jar her wrought emotions until her own fury rose to the surface, ready to explode.

"Oh I know!" she shouted, standing to face her professor. "It's just business, right? I'm so glad to hear it! And I'm sure Sirius will be happy too! He can fuck me all he wants because no one ever sees him, so they can't say I've gone behind your back. Isn't it a perfect arrangement,  _Professor?!_ " Snape's magic began to swirl around them and Hermione was almost afraid they might all go up in flames.

"They will see it in your mind!" he growled back, but she knew she had him.

"You've already ordered me never to let  _them_  see anything incriminating in my mind unless you told me otherwise." She sneered up at him in a horrible imitation of his own preferred expression. He was out of arguments, she knew, but his anger only grew stronger.

"Don't go near that dog again!" he shouted, "Don't even touch him. I forbid it!" And at that she had to laugh, even as tears sprang to her eyes.

"Oh but it's all business, right?" His grabbed her upper arms in powerless fury, towering over her.

"I refuse to share a woman with that filth! If I must touch you, at least you will be free of fleas when I do." Hermione's eyes filled with spiteful tears.

" _You bastard!_ " she hissed beneath her breath. "I never wanted to touch him. Are you really that thick? I thought he was you!" At that, she ripped away from him, heading toward the door. "I'm going to bed. By your leave,  _Master_." She gave him a sardonic bow and awaited his response.

"Go, then," he told her and she began to obey, but as she fumbled with the portrait door, she glanced back at the dark professor.

"I'm curious, Professor," she began, "when you decided that it was wrong for us to be together, which of Kohlberg's stages were you using?" She left him on that note, compelled by the Curse to go away. But as she drifted through the halls, a heavy sadness seemed to drag her to the floor. She curled up in an alcove for a while and wept into her knees, thinking back on his cruel words.  _How could he say that to me?_   _How could he treat me that way?_  And though deep down she knew that his anger had been borne of his possessiveness towards her, she could only hear him saying over and over again in her head that if he  _had_  to touch her… that he would not share her…

* * *

"Fuck!" Severus shouted as he kicked over a table. She had gotten the best of him, he knew. And his fury too had bettered the better part of his logical mind. He sank down into his reading chair, burying his head in his hands, rubbing his aching temples. "Fuck that mongrel bastard!" He could still see her memory replaying in his mind. That filthy cur thrusting against an unwilling Hermione; his seed pouring out on her perfect thighs.  _Mine_. Oh gods, what had he been thinking? He had been outraged to see the girl in bed with his arch nemesis, but not because she had compromised the Cause. Oh no, he was not so big a fool as that. He knew very well why he had been so angry. He was jealous, and possessive, and protective of the girl. He wanted to keep her from harm and he wanted her embraces all to himself. He didn't like the thought of another man touching her,  _ever._  Because  _he wanted her_  to himself.  _Forever._

 _Oh Merlin, I am a fool._ It was folly to think that he could ever truly  _have_  Granger, despite the fact that she repeatedly threw herself at him.  _One day she will see._  But he had said some things tonight that she might never forgive.

As a child, Severus had never believed that words could hurt worse than any blow, but he had seen the truth of it in life. He'd lost Lily in the same manner. And who knows, if he hadn't ever called her a mudblood— _or if she had forgiven me—_ they might have even ended up together. And he never would have joined the dark lord. And the Potter boy never would have been born. And she never would have died.

But that wasn't the case. And he couldn't change that. And apparently he hadn't learned from it either. ' _If I must touch you, at least you will be free of fleas when I do_ ,' he had said. Severus moaned in pain at the thought of it. He had told her he would never share a woman with filth like Black, and he thanked the gods he had tempered that statement from the crueler version he had formed like a ready arrow in his mind, waiting to be used in combat.  _I refuse to share a cunt with that cur_ , he had almost told her. "Oh gods." Hindsight is 20/20 and Severus thanked Merlin that he hadn't let that slip past his thrashing teeth. Even still, it would be a miracle if she ever forgave him for his words to her tonight.

 _She had a point_ , he admitted to himself. If it was truly just business, he shouldn't have been angry at all. And yet, he had never known such fury, so what did that say about his feelings for the girl?  _You care for her_. So many had told him exactly that, and he knew it to be true. He cared for Granger and it frightened him.  _That way lies hurt_ , he told himself. But there was nothing for it.  _If she ever forgives me, I'll never hurt her like that again._

He had to smile when he remembered her parting words to him: ' _when you decided that it was wrong for us to be together, which of Kohlberg's stages were you using?'_ Only Hermione Granger would ask a question like that at a time like this. But it intrigued him nonetheless. He would have to consider. And maybe… just maybe… but no, he could not allow himself to hope that his analysis would lead to the conclusion that it was alright for them to be together.  _That way lies pain_ , he reminded himself.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, remembering for the first time the dream she had shown him; the dream about him. And a sweet tenderness filled the aching cavity of his heart like dittany on a wound.  _She wants me,_  he realized. In her dream they had been married.  _Oh gods._  He was in over his head.  _She doesn't know what she wants. She is only a girl. It was only a dream._

And then he remembered Potter's memory; the bait he had taken that kept him from seeing the true secret.  _Fool._

And he saw Hermione's face flushing pink as Weasley questioned her.  _Are you in love with him?_

And though she had flushed and blinked with apparent unease,  _she had not answered._


	32. Chapter 32

_Severus!_  a far-off whisper cried.  _Oh Severus!_  They were enclosed in a narrow four-poster bed and her lithe body squirmed beneath him as he kissed her neck. Soft breasts filled his hands as her hips rose to meet his eager movements. Gods she felt good.

He crouched over her, positioning himself at her entrance.  _Severus!_  she moaned as he began to enter her. And suddenly she was pulling away, panicking, pushing against him.  _No! Stop! Please don't!_  she cried like the ghost of a memory. And he wanted to ignore her protests and take what he wanted for himself, but something made him stop. Perhaps it was because she mattered.

 _Why?_  he asked her, desperate.

 _Because. I'm your student. What will people think?_  He groaned in frustration and pressed against her.

 _Bugger them. I don't care what they think._ She smiled sadly at him and lifted a hand to sweep a lock of hair behind his ear.

_But Severus, it's against the rules._

_Rules can be amended,_  he told her, but he pulled away just the same and the absence of her warmth left him cold and unfulfilled.

_Then why have you pulled away?_

_Because, it is not right if it is not what you want._  She quirked a secret smile up at him and he felt that dangerous throb of hope.

 _And if I told you that it was what I wanted?_  It was all she needed to say and in an instant he was on top of her again, pressing his lips to hers and cupping her face as she knotted her fingers behind his neck.  _Oh Severus,_  she moaned when he entered her and he had never felt such bliss and pleasure.

_Hermione…_

Severus woke with a start to the gloom of morning in the dungeons. Alone. But his dream had left him throbbing with need and he took himself in hand.  _Oh Merlin._  The dream had been so real. He could still feel her body beneath him.  _Gods._  She had been so willing and eager. What if he called her to him right now and told her that Lucius was watching?  _Fuck!_  He could finish where the dream had left off and make love to her until she came.  _Hermione._ He remembered the sound of his name on her tongue.  _Severus._  Sweeter than honey.  _Severus._ And he tried to imagine how his name would sound as a cry of ecstasy as she came beneath him.  _Severus!_  And he came so forcefully that his body shook and he cried out into the dim vacant room: " _Hermione!_ "

And as he came down and woke up the self-loathing kicked in.  _Pathetic._  If only the girl could see him now. Perhaps then she wouldn't be so keen on being with him. That is, if his words to her last night hadn't already accomplished that. Severus groaned as memories of the night before filled his mind in a swirl of regret. The last time he had seen the girl, she had been crying. And now here he was fantasizing about her young, beautiful body.  _I really am a dirty old bastard._ He could still see the tears gleaming on her cheeks.

 _I will have to talk to her today._ Severus groaned. It was not going to be easy. But if he wanted to reestablish the fragile relationship they had formed, he would have to apologize.  _Or else lose her forever._  Was he really so wrong for wanting to destroy Black after what he had seen? He'd been furious; ready to kill the bastard. So, was it any wonder that he'd said a few things that he should not have?

But he could justify it all he wanted and it wouldn't change the fact that he felt guilty.  _I hurt her,_  he reminded himself.  _Again._  And that was the part that he regretted.  _Severus!_  he could still hear her calling in a panic. It had been a last-ditch effort to stop him, quite Slytherin really, and apparently effective, but it had frightened him all the same. Had he let her in too far? Had he allowed her to become too comfortable with him? To think of him so personally? It was wrong. Wasn't it?

The dream he'd had would have him believe otherwise, and he had to admit that the sound of his name on her tongue had been delicious. Perhaps that was the part that frightened him the most.

* * *

The cold wood pressed hard against her forehead unrelenting until her skin began to bruise and there was no longer a discernible difference in temperature between the two surfaces. Whether the table had grown warm or her skin had grown cold she could not say. She only sat there, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the sounds of the library around her, and yet not listening at all.

It was her own damn fault for falling in love with an unfeeling man like Severus Snape. Probably his words to her last night had been entirely true. Probably his hatred for Sirius ran deeper than his fondness for her. She refused to believe that he had not grown fond of her in their time together. That much was apparent. And she couldn't fault him for refusing to love her when he was still in love with another. But that didn't assuage the stabbing pain inside of her at the thought of him. Things would have been so much easier if she'd fallen in love with anyone else in the entire world. But no.

"Rough night?" Hermione's head snapped up to the sneering face of Draco Malfoy and she belatedly remembered the tear tracks on her cheeks. Rubbing them away, she glared at the arrogant blond boy.

"Run along Malfoy," she told him. "You aren't wanted here." But he slipped into a chair opposite her all the same.

"So… that was some episode yesterday." For a moment Hermione couldn't seem to breathe, thinking that perhaps he had somehow seen her fight with their professor. But then she remembered the Occlumency lesson and the fear left her in an impatient sigh. "I'm dying to know, Granger. What did my godfather see in Weasley's mind that made him send me away?"

"Do you honestly think I'm going to tell you? Even if I  _could_ , why on Earth would I want to?" He scowled at that.

"The rest of you knew, didn't you? You knew beforehand, but you hadn't said a word to him about it. I thought you were supposed to be spying for him." Suspicion shot through her and Hermione was reminded again just how dangerous talking to Malfoy could be. Anything she said could be taken straight back to his parents and the dark lord. And after his little slip-up in detention the other day, he had a lot to make up for.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy."

"Oh come on, Granger. Aren't you kind of in love with him?"

"I'm just going to stop responding to you," she informed him as she returned her forehead to the table.

"Oh but I bet you haven't stopped  _responding_  to him, ay Granger? Is it his dark, evil side that turns you on or have you always had a thing for professors?" Hermione bit back a retort and started putting her books back into her bag.

"You're hopeless, Granger. Falling in love with your captor. Does he take points off in the bedroom as well? Does he punish you until you scream for mercy? Or does he make sweet love to you, pretending that you're someone else?" Hermione stood so abruptly that her chair crashed to the floor and she swung her bag over her shoulder as she glared down at the snobby blond. "Oh dear, I've struck a tender spot haven't I?"

"Hello Hermione." The Gryffindor turned abruptly and there was Luna, standing by the bookshelf, smiling at her.  _Strange girl._ How long had she been standing there?

"Hello Luna," she responded cautiously.

Then Luna turned to Malfoy, still smiling. "Hello Draco." He only stared at her in confusion and disbelief. "You two are a funny couple I think." They blinked at her, but before either could respond, she began again. "Are you talking about Professor Snape?" There was a heavy pause.

"How much did you hear?" Malfoy demanded.

"Oh, not much. It just makes sense, you see. It's the only thing you have in common." Hermione's heart was pounding in her chest. Did Luna know something?

"What are you talking about?" she asked hesitantly.

"Professor Snape, of course. It's funny really. You're very different, but you both love him." They only gawked at her. "Oh, is that a secret? It's quite obvious."

"How… what…" Hermione's pulse was thrumming in her ears. How could she know that? Was it that easy to see? Luna sat down at the table between them and Hermione returned to her own seat.

"He's angry," Luna told them. "It makes me sad. You know, people who are always angry at everyone else are really only angry at themselves." When she turned to look at Malfoy, he visibly paled. "But you should know," she told him, reaching a hand across the table, "There's nothing to be angry about really." His face reddened furiously at that and his features were indignant, but before he could form an insulting retort a shadow fell over their little table and his eyes snapped up to a point above Hermione's head.

"Miss Granger," growled a familiar voice, his low timbre resonating deep within her. She froze, her heart pounding, and for a moment she forgot to breathe. Gods, would he always have such a powerful effect on her? "A word, if you don't mind," he said and she gulped, meeting Malfoy's eyes and not missing the flash of fear within them.

"Hello Professor," Luna sang cheerfully, smiling up at him. And she did not seem at all discouraged when he made no response.

Hermione slipped out of her chair and grabbed her bag before turning toward him, and even then refused to meet his gaze. She was still angry and worried about the effect that a glance into those inky depths might have on her. Either she would lose her last shreds of self-control and attack him on the spot, or she would succumb to her own affection and forgive him immediately which he certainly didn't deserve. But she was spared the risk when he spun on his heels and led her from the library.

Once outside, he turned and waited for her to catch up to him, guiding her from there with a hand on the small of her back. The gesture sent a tingle of desire down her spine and made her heart throb painfully. He only did it to usher her faster down the hall, or so she told herself.

Hermione was just wondering if he was really going to lead her all the way down to the dungeons when he turned toward the stairs that led to the Astronomy Tower.  _Odd._  But she supposed that was the closest private place for them to talk. When she stepped out into the sunlight, a gust of chilly wind swept around her and she belatedly remembered that she had no coat. Scowling, but refusing to admit that weakness, she retreated toward the edge of the tower, leaning against the rail and looking out on the castle grounds. When he spoke, he was right behind her.

"I am sure you can imagine why I've brought you here." It was not a question, so she did not respond. He hesitated, moving to stand beside her by the rail. For a long moment, they only stood there, staring down at the ground so very far below. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer. "I didn't mean what I said last night," he told her. Surprised, she lifted her face to look at him, but he kept his own turned away and his eyes trained on the grass below them, clutching the rail with knuckles white as snow. She watched him swallow. "I was angry. Not at you; at  _Black_. And… I suppose I was worried that you would go to him again. For comfort or revenge, I don't know. But… I apologize if anything I said last night was offensive to you."

His tone was a little grudging, but Hermione's heart warmed despite herself and she had to look away as tears spilled down her cheeks and her lips turned up in a smile. Suddenly she could feel his eyes on her, but messy curls had fallen in her face so he could not see her weakness. Her body shook with shivers and silent sobs as he turned away from her again.

"It was not my place to say that you cannot see the dog if you want to."  _Wait, what?_ "You may see whomever you want." There was bitter anger barely concealed beneath his words and Hermione turned in shock to look at him. But he refused to meet her gaze. She could see him bristling under her stare, and after a moment he turned to leave her there.

"Wait!" she cried as he swept away, but she did not know what to say to that. And if he was surprised to see her crying when he turned back towards her, he did not show it. She fumbled for the words. He had it all wrong. Hadn't he been listening at all last night? "Please," she begged him as he seemed ready to turn from her again. And his eyes grew wide as she moved to stand in front of him, but he did not turn away. And Luna's words came back to her all of a sudden: ' _people who are always angry at everyone else are really only angry at themselves_. _'_  And somehow she knew that his anger was not directed at her, but at himself. And she remembered her resolution to show him that he was loved no matter the cost.

So she smiled up at him. And reached for his hands. And he let her take them, though his eyes were wary and confused. And she brought one up to her mouth and kissed the back of it. "I don't want him," she said slowly, letting each word sink in as he stood there frozen. She lifted his other hand and kissed it too. "I don't  _care_  about  _him_ ," she murmured gently, turning his hand over and kissing his palm. And he ripped it away from her, but she held tight to his other and grinned mischievously up at him as she slowly raised it to her lips, turning it over and pressing a soft, lingering kiss in the center. And when her gaze returned to him, his eyes were hungry with desire.

Hermione's hand fell away as her professor lifted his own to her cheek, tucking stray curls behind her ear in the gentlest of gestures. And when she took a bare step closer to him, he did not back away, but placed his other hand lightly on her waist. And she lifted herself onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck as his head came down to meet her, their lips brushing against one another in the barest ghost of a kiss. But she felt his fingers claw at her waist when she moaned against his mouth and he pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his own. "Oh…" she whimpered and he slipped his tongue into her mouth, tasting, caressing. And for a moment all was right with the world.

But suddenly the door to the tower banged open and they ripped away from each other as a giggling Pansy Parkinson appeared, dragging an eager-looking Hufflepuff. When they saw their professor and Hermione, they froze and comprehension seemed to fall over the Slytherin girl's features in the same instant that confusion befell her handsome companion. And before Parkinson could even finish her astonished "Sorry, Professor," Snape had swept past them, leaving Hermione to follow after him like a fool.

* * *

"What the hell am I doing?" Severus groaned at the floor, his head in his hands. Lucius chuckled sympathetically.

"You're enjoying a good thing, Severus. I know it's unfamiliar to you." Severus glared up at his old friend. He had come to Lucius for advice because there was no one else he could talk to. Lucius and he both had enough information on each other to be sure that neither could betray something without risking the exposure of his own secrets. As such, he was the closest thing to a confidant that Severus had ever had.

"She is my student. It's not so simple as that."

"No, it's not simple, is it? There are all sorts of complications and concerns. What would your other students think? Here you are displaying favoritism towards a Gryffindor. Won't your Slytherins be jealous?" He cackled heartily as Severus threw him another scornful glare. "Oh to be sure the other professors will have a thing or two to say. And I'm sure you'd hate to ruin so many good friendships over a bit of pussy." Severus leapt up.

"It's not like that!" But Lucius only lifted an elegant eyebrow and humbled Severus back into his seat.

"It isn't?" he drawled ironically. "Do you mean to tell me that the girl means more to you than pure physical relief? Imagine my shock. But surely your loyalty to the Hogwarts staff takes precedence? And what of the old fool? I know you've always cared a great deal for his opinion." Severus huffed.

"You've made your point, Lucius. But you and I both know it's worse than that. If the dark lord knew how I felt about the girl he would use it against me. He would kill her."

"So don't tell him." Severus groaned. "Tell me old friend, what is the real reason you are so loathe to admit your feelings for the girl?" The brooding professor considered his friend thoughtfully, but he was unable to answer. Lucius smirked. "I don't suppose you require another trip to the Ministry? I would love to see how you greet the girl after our little chat."

"No. I have no need of that at the moment."

"Tsk tsk," clucked Lucius, "A shame. Narcissa has grown even colder of late and a man has needs. Surely there must be something else I can barter?" Severus shook his head. "Then perhaps you will humor me out of love for your old friend? Pity, even. No? Come now, Severus. Don't be so cruel."

"Make amends with your wife if you are so desperate."

"You know I cannot, Severus. What she desires is completely beyond my reach."  _Not completely._  But then Lucius's expression grew wicked and Severus held his breath over a sip of brandy. "What if I were to suggest to the dark lord that we require another turn with your little toy?" Severus's hand clenched hard around his glass.

"And what if I were to mention a certain slip in your son's impeccable composure?"

"With the girl right there? And who do you imagine he will punish for it? I think not, Severus." Lucius smirked triumphantly at his supposed friend. He was bluffing, Severus was sure, but was that a risk he was willing to take?

* * *

"He's always hated Sirius! That's all it was. If it was anyone else, he never would have told Dumbledore!" Harry was still fuming over his godfather's removal from the premises.

"Ha! That's not true," Ginny told him. "He would have turned anyone in. He just might not have enjoyed it half as much." Hermione tried to ignore them as she concentrated on her  _History of Magic_  text. If they would only shut up about the dark professor, she might be caught up in time for class on Tuesday.

"I wish they would just duel it out. Sirius would kill Snape before he even knew what hit him." Hermione's huff of amused disagreement popped out before she could suppress it and Harry turned to glare at her. "What, you think he'd lose? You think your precious Snape would get the better of my godfather?" Oh, she really didn't want to have this argument right now.

"I'm just being realistic, Harry. Professor Snape has to be constantly on guard and prepared to defend himself against people on both sides of this war, and Sirius hasn't used his wand much at all for the past sixteen years." Harry turned bright red at that and scowled angrily down at Hermione.

"You're just on his side because you're sleeping with him!" Harry bit back. Oh that did it! Hermione was so  _fucking_  sick of people using that against her when they were  _supposed_  to be  _comforting_  her about it. And all of the added pressure of Sirius's visit had put her so on edge that she reacted before she thought to shut her mouth.

"Well if that's the case," she hissed furiously, "I ought to be on both of their sides!" And suddenly she had said too much. They were in the Common Room, but no one outside of their little group seemed to have noticed the spat between friends. Hermione took advantage of the shocked silence to shove her books into her bag and retreat as fast as she could. Part of her was furious and part of her was mortified that she had admitted that secret to them.

She was already on the stairs to the girls' dorms before Harry began to chase after her, and she made it to the landing in time to look back and see him sliding down the ramp that had been the stairs. But she was barely given time to catch her breath behind the barrier of her bed curtains before Ginny Weasley called her name. Hermione groaned.

"Go away," she pleaded, but Ginny was stubborn and would not give up.

"Please, Hermione. Let me talk to you. Can I come in? Please?" Hermione sighed and reluctantly held the curtain open for the other girl. "Gods Hermione, You can't just throw something like that out there and then run off. I mean you slept with Sirius? Bloody hell! What is it with you and older men?"

"No. It wasn't like that," Hermione hurried to explain. "That is, I didn't sleep with Sirius… exactly." Ginny only raised an eyebrow and waited. "I mean, he came to talk to me that night after everyone had gone to bed."  _Oh gods_. Was she really going to tell Ginny about all of that?  _Here we go again._  "He was trying to comfort me, as he had done back at Grimmauld Place when everything first happened. We didn't do anything," she hastened to assure her friend. "But I fell asleep."

"Oh, is  _that_  all you meant?" Ginny looked incredulous, but Hermione shook her head reluctantly.

"When I woke up, I guess I forgot where I was, and I thought I was with… with Professor Snape." She blushed at the admission. "And my eyes were closed because I was still waking up and he started to kiss me so I kissed him back. And he was naked, because, you know, he had come to me as a dog."

"Oh gods, Hermione! You didn't have sex did you?"

"Almost," she admitted in a small voice. Ginny was horrified. "Well, when I realized who he was, I tried to push him off, but he wouldn't stop. And he… he didn't stop until…" She couldn't say it.

"Until what?" Ginny whispered anxiously. Hermione met her eyes and Ginny gasped. "Oh gross! He didn't!"

"He really thought that I had feelings for him. I… I may have led him on a little… Not much! It's just that he was being so sweet the night before and trying to comfort me and just listening to me and he doesn't know about… Professor Snape. He just kept saying he was sorry and he couldn't help himself and he hadn't been with a woman in so long…"

"No." Ginny's voice was stern. "That's no excuse. He should have backed off the moment you started pushing him away."

"Oh I agree. I'm not trying to justify what he did. I'm just trying to explain. He probably thought I knew who he was when I was kissing him. And… and I wasn't  _just_  kissing him… I mean my body language was pretty much communicating that I was ready for it…"

Ginny guffawed. "Before you'd even opened your eyes?" she asked, disbelieving. "Gods Hermione, are you sure he hasn't slipped you something? I mean it's Snape we're talking about. Or… I mean, is the sex just that good?"

Hermione laughed. "It's not that, Gin. Although, I have no complaints there." She giggled nervously. "But no. It's not the sex... It's  _him._  I just love being with him and I just want him to be happy and I just want him to feel…" she broke off and her cheeks turned pink.

"Yes?" Ginny prompted eagerly. Hermione met the other girl's pretty blue eyes.

"Well… That is… You'll think it's silly, but… I… I want him to feel… loved."

"Merlin, Hermione, you've got it bad. I just can't believe it. Snape! Why? I mean, how the hell did you fall for Snape?" Hermione's glare died with a weary sigh.

"You don't understand because you don't know him. You only see what he wants you to see. But I know him better. He's not really the cold, heartless bastard he pretends to be."  _Not all the time anyway._ "And believe me, he can be as tender as he is cruel. Gods, Ginny, he makes me as angry as anyone else, but it doesn't matter. I can't stay mad at him. Because, at the end of the day I just want to hold him close so he knows he's not alone."

"And you're sure he feels that way, too? I mean, you really don't think that he's taking advantage of your affection so he can have sex with you?" Hermione had to laugh at that.

"If that was the case, he wouldn't push me away every time I came to him. He tells me it's wrong, but I can see he wants to. And he won't admit that he cares about me, but I know that he does, just a little. But Ginny, we only ever have sex when we have to. He refuses otherwise. He says it's 'strictly business,' and anything more would be wrong."

"Weird," Ginny hummed. "Maybe he's gay." Hermione laughed out loud at that.

"Oh no, believe me, he's not gay. He wants it, he just… feels guilty about it. There was one time… one morning… when we were just waking up… and I had slept there because he was hurt—he had been to see Voldemort… and… gods it was so sweet… but then afterwards he was distant and cold and I could see the regret in his eyes…" The admission made Hermione feel guilty, as if she had revealed some secret about their professor that she never should have told the girl. "Oh gods Ginny, please don't tell Harry or Ron about all that." And then she remembered the Occlumency lessons and her pulse quickened.

"No worries," Ginny told her, "My lips are sealed."  _But can you seal your mind?_  "So… the experienced older man… I guess I can see the appeal." Ginny's eyes grew wide and they slanted toward Hermione. "Is he big?" she asked, a grin spreading across her face. Hermione flushed.

"Ginny!" she laughed.

"Oooo he is isn't he? Is he bigger than Sirius?" Hermione's brow wrinkled.

"I wasn't actually paying that much attention."

"Bloody hell Hermione, you've only been sleeping with him for a few months now."

"No!" she laughed, her cheeks tight with mirth. "Sirius! I wasn't paying attention to  _Sirius!_ "

"Mmmhmmmm sure. Well  _I_  certainly noticed." Hermione shook her head.

"Of course you did, Ginny."

"And what's that supposed to mean?! Here," she held her hands a few inches apart with the palms facing each other. "Stop me when I get to his size." She slowly moved her hands farther and farther apart.

"Ginny!"

The redhead laughed as she reached inhuman proportions. "Wowza! No wonder you're so fond of him!"

"Oh come on, don't be ridiculous."

"Fine then," Ginny pouted happily, "I won't tell you how big Harry is."

Hermione laughed. "Thank the gods!"

The ring on Hermione's finger suddenly pulsed with warmth and her mirth changed to horror in the blink of an eye.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked. And for a moment Hermione wasn't sure if she should keep the rings a secret or not. But if she knew Ginny, it wasn't likely she'd buy some hurried and half-hearted excuse. And so, withdrawing her wand, she removed the  _Disillusionment_  charm. Ginny gasped.

"It's a communication device. Like the galleons we use for the D.A." She brought her hand up to read the inscription.  _Are you alone?_  It said. Her heart began to pound. Maybe he wanted to pick up where they left off in the Astronomy Tower. The mere thought sent a wave of fire to her core.

"What does it say?" Ginny asked her, and she absentmindedly extended her arm to the other girl. "Ooo Merlin! Tell him 'yes'!"

Hermione shook her head.  _No,_  she inscribed.  _Why?_  And both girls sat waiting for his response.

 _I spoke with Lucius today._  The words caused her breathing to grow shallow and slow and her pulse to quicken as her cheeks flamed red.

"What does he mean by that?" Ginny wondered. Her confusion was written plainly across her face.

"He is going to Summon me," Hermione explained.

"Summon you? Ooooo, that's hot! So what does that have to do with  _Lucius?_ "

Hermione bit her lip, unsure what to tell her friend. "Lucius is the reason we have to…" she broke off, but Ginny's eyes slowly grew wide with comprehension and her pretty lips twisted in a mischievous grin.

"Tell him to hold on. You're not going like that, are you?"

Hermione glanced down at her muggle jeans and t-shirt and shrugged her shoulders. "It doesn't matter. He's just going to take it off."

"Tsk tsk," Ginny clucked, "it  _does_  matter, Hermione. That's part of the fun! Stand up."

Hermione slipped out of the bed to stand beside the nightstand and Ginny studied her appraisingly, rubbing her chin for emphasis. Then she withdrew her wand and transfigured the other girl's clothing several different times before nodding her head. "Perfect. Go look," she told Hermione and the other girl hurried to the bathroom where a floor length mirror awaited her perusal. Ginny had dressed her in nearly sheer satin pajamas with silky little shorts and a flowing top with spaghetti straps to show off her shoulders.

"He'll think I'm trying too hard," she told the other girl. But Ginny only shook her head.

"He won't be thinking much of anything when he sees you in this."

Hermione smiled uncertainly, but lifted her wand to the ring.  _Now?_ she asked him. They both seemed to hold their breath as they waited and Hermione's heart lurched when the ring grew warm again.  _Yes,_  it said and she looked up at Ginny with wide eyes. "Are you sure about this, Gin?"

"Positive, my dear. You look absolutely stunning."

Hermione beamed and bit her lip as she raised her wand to the ring.  _Alright,_  she told him. Then she remembered that Ginny still didn't know about Summoning, but before she could say another word, she had disappeared.

* * *

Granger landed on her feet in the middle of his bed and struggled for balance before collapsing between his legs. The lavender satin she was wearing made her look like an angel and he could see the curves of her body through the thin material. He was hard before she hit the sheets. For a moment, they were frozen in place, holding their breath and meeting each other's eyes with uncertainty. But he watched her worry melt into fiery desire and she crawled toward him on the bed. He groaned as she straddled his thighs and cupped his face in her hands.

Oh yes, she had him now. The fire was there and she could feel his hard erection through the fabric that separated them. His hands came up to grip her waist, sliding across the material in a gentle caress as her lips pressed lightly against his mouth. As the kiss grew passionate, he cupped her backside, pulling her hard against his stiff erection. And she moaned and rubbed ardently along its length, reaching down to remove the barrier of his trousers.

Her eagerness had him panting for breath as he pushed her backwards until she was flat on her back and stripped out of his clothing. Her legs were spread beneath him and he happily nestled himself between them, capturing her mouth as his hands came up to cup her silken breasts. It was just like his dream. He kept a hand on her breast, pinching a pink nipple as his other hand slipped behind her back, cupping her sweet arse, and lifting her to him as he grinded against the satin junction of her legs.

How could she have ever believed that the clothing didn't matter? This silky torture was driving her mad and Hermione was close to climaxing before he'd even entered her. Hell, she wasn't even naked yet. Severus was just as enthusiastic, if his eager thrusts were any indication. His mouth met the curve of her throat and he bit the tender flesh there, causing her to cry out in pleasure and in pain. Then he was pulling her little shorts off and she moaned as he crouched over her, positioning himself at her entrance.

His eyes met hers, silently asking her permission and she moaned impatiently. "Please," she whimpered and he didn't need to hear another word. Pushing inside of her, he sheathed himself to the hilt and savored the way her lips fell open in a heady gasp. She felt so wonderfully soft beneath him as he kissed her, sliding his hands beneath her silky top to grasp her naked breasts. She groaned in desperation and bucked against him. And he growled in satisfaction as his mouth met hers and his tongue swept inside to taste her; claim her; make her his.

Hermione had never felt more thoroughly ravished as the dark professor ground his body against hers with a passionate ardor that was unprecedented. And part of her wanted to savor the sensation for a lifetime, but she was quickly reaching her climax and had already relinquished all control to him. When his eyes met hers in fiery communion, she knew that she was lost. And as she felt her body tip over the edge and the fire within seemed to burst apart into a million flames of glorious sensation, she cried out beneath him, " _Severus!_ " as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her soft willingness and passion had him near the brink of orgasm when he felt the first tremors of her own climax. And his eyes grew wide as her head fell back and her back arched in delicious surrender. And when she cried his name, " _Severus!_ " like an echo of a dream, his pleasure crested in wracking waves of ecstasy as he growled savagely above her.

And even as the pulsing waves of their mutual relief slowly dwindled down, Severus continued to press gently inside of her, riding out the very last ripple of pleasure until quiescence was reached and he collapsed against her.

There they remained for several minutes as Hermione's hands came up to brush his hair behind his ears and Severus's fingertips danced in lazy circles around her shoulders. There were tears in her eyes, but a smile on her face, and Severus was not sure what that meant. But more than anything he wanted the smile to win. So he leaned down and brushed a slow, wet kiss against her lips.

His tender caresses seemed to mend her heart and a heavy pressure pulsed behind her eyes, leaking tears across her face despite her efforts to restrain them. But as he brought his mouth to hers once more to taste her lips in the softest embrace, she yielded to deliverance and released her tears to tumble down her cheeks.

Severus closed the connection to Lucius and brushed the tears from her face with his thumb. "What is it?" he asked her, his voice full of concern.

"It's nothing," she told him through a sob, "and everything." And though he did not understand, he knew by her smile that he needn't worry. So he smiled back down at her and kissed her forehead once more before rolling onto his back.

He did not tell her to leave, so she didn't go. Instead she stayed there as her recent inner turmoil of chaotic emotions seemed to shift into order and she felt whole and new again. And as everything clicked into place and nothing felt wrong, she drifted slowly toward the quiescence of sleep. And in her drowsy sated state she could have sworn in that moment that she bore no scars. And everything was right with the world.

Severus watched the girl sleep with the tender agony of a vulnerable heart. The beautiful angel beside him was the most precious thing in the world. And he knew that he would do anything for her. He would die for her. And he would  _live_  for her.

Her breath was slow and steady and her lips were parted in the barest whisper of a smile as Severus allowed himself to relax beside her. It was the tiniest flash of an instant in the grand scheme of Time, but it was utterly perfect. And as the peacefulness of the moment seeped into his weary soul, his gaze lingered contentedly on the face of the girl beside him. "Sleep well," he whispered, "Hermione."


	33. Chapter 33

Through endless darkness she was flying, and all about her there were stars. And beneath was the reflection of a phoenix on the surface of a glassy sea. She was gliding through air and she was gliding through water. And her duel image was undisturbed in the quiescent calm. The fathomless mirror was not blemished by ripples. And the peace of the water was reflected in the sky; Heart's Desire manifest like a dream turned reality.

Then, as she soared, a great monster burst from beneath the sea, shattering the silver surface into a million ripples and reaching for her with razor teeth. But she was out of its reach and it splashed back into its own reflection. And as the monster disappeared, the jagged waves returned to calm, and peace was restored. And the sky was still and the water unmoving as she was surrounded once again by the quiet sparkle of the stars.

* * *

When Hermione woke, her Professor's sleeping arms were wrapped around her, his hot breath fanning across the back of her neck, and she was already buzzing with a happy energy.  _I'm a Phoenix_ , she told herself.  _The fire of a dragon cannot defeat a Phoenix. She is reborn from the ashes._ And she certainly felt like she had been reborn from the ashes of a terrible fire. The darkness was behind her and she felt stronger for having suffered it. And now, in the peaceful morning, as she laid thinking about her part in the war to come, finally, she was not afraid.

Her Professor stirred, arching his back to press against her own, and she could feel his morning hardness between her thighs. She smiled. His breathing told her he was awake, but he made no move to withdraw from her. So she placed a hand on his where it lay pressed against her stomach and rubbed a thumb across his knuckles.

"Mmmmmm," he growled lazily into her sleep-tousled hair.

"Professor," she began softly, but he lifted a finger to her lips in a gesture to be quiet.

"Shhh," he told her, "In our present evocative position, perhaps it would be better if you refrained from calling me 'Professor.'"

Hermione's brow wrinkled in confusion. "But you told me…"

"Shhh," he hushed her again, "I know what I told you." But he made no further comment on the subject, only breathed quietly in her ear and moved his hand from her lips to run circles on her stomach. She thought of the way Sirius had caressed her and how she had pouted that Severus never did. But here, now, he was touching her, holding her, and everything seemed right with the world. Did she dare risk the disturbance of this peace?

"Severus," she began again, hesitantly. He tensed behind her, but did not stop the soft circular movement of his fingers on her flesh. "I had a fascinating dream."

"Did you?" he murmured sleepily, setting his hand on her waist and rubbing it up and down the smooth curve of her hip.

"Yes. I was a phoenix and I was flying over a sea as calm as the night when a dragon suddenly burst out of the water and tried to catch me in its jaws. But I was too high up and it splashed back down into the water like it had never been there at all."

"Hmmm," was all he said.

"I think it means something," she told him. "Lately, I've been having very interesting dreams. They have to do with the research I've been doing. And… I can't help the feeling that it's leading me somewhere important." There was silence a moment as he seemed to consider. Or else, judging from the persistent pressure of his erection on the back of her thighs, he may not have been listening at all.

"What do you think it means?" he asked at last.

"Well," she began. Only she didn't know where to start. There was so much involved and she still didn't know what it all lead to or if all of it was even important. She thought a moment, concentrating on the broad themes that her readings had explained. "It's about Good and Evil, Love and Hate, Light and Dark," she said. "It's about fighting the bad in the world without letting it destroy you. Because… if you're good… the evil cannot bring you down. A dragon's flames cannot kill a phoenix." Severus had gone very still.

"And if the dragon eats the phoenix?"

She laughed at that. "Well then, I suppose she will escape through its flames." His huff of breath behind her ear could have been either amusement or derision. But she was afraid to turn and see. His hand began to brush along the length of her thigh and the stiffness of the movement spoke of his anxiety.

"We can't all be phoenixes," he told her in a soft, sad, vulnerable voice.

She considered that. "I think it's a choice we make. We either fight for ourselves or we fight for others. If we choose love, we set aside our concerns for ourselves in order to protect. People who did this never truly perish. They are part of the world that will live on. As the Universe, so the Soul. But if we abandon others in greed and lose sight of what is Right or Good because it does not directly benefit us, we will perish like the dragon in my dream, falling back into our own reflections until we are gone from the world and the rest rejoice because the world is better for our absence." It made so much sense to her in that moment, and there was quiet for several minutes before Severus wrapped his arm around her waist and squeezed her tight.

"You amaze me," he whispered and she could feel the color rising to her cheeks.  _Severus Snape just gave me a compliment!_

She wasn't sure what to say, so she laughed. "I've just… been reading a lot," she said. And it was his turn to laugh. The deep rumble coursed from his body into hers where it filled her heart and sparked a fire in her belly. Then his lips brushed against the back of her neck and she couldn't stifle a soft moan. One hand drifted up to cup her breast as he spoke in a dangerous low voice.

"You  _always_  read a lot," he teased, pinching her nipple. "You're Hermione Granger."

She laughed softly. "I like the sound of my name on your voice," she confessed in a whisper.

"I like the taste of your name on my tongue," he growled, "Hermione…" And her moan became a giggle as his tongue darted out to taste the soft skin below her ear. He rubbed his body against her to demonstrate his arousal as he kissed her neck through a laughing smile. Then his hand darted down between her legs and she opened them for him as he caressed her there. And all conversation dissolved into whimpers and moans.

Deft fingers eased between her folds, teasing and fueling the fire within like pine needles on a brazier. She was wet and whimpering by the time he slipped those graceful fingers inside of her. And as he moved them in and out, back and forth, he found a sweet spot that made her buck against his hand. "Oh gods!" she cried. The sensation was nearly overwhelming.

His mouth travelled along the curve of her neck as he worked; light brushes of his lips blossoming into tender kisses as he opened his mouth to taste her. When he withdrew his fingers, she groaned in frustration until they began to draw circles around that hidden nub. His teeth scraped against the skin of her neck and she moaned as he pulled away, bringing his hand up to taste her sweetness on his fingers. She was embarrassed until he groaned in appreciation. Then he slid his palm down the length of her side, and slipped it behind her to take himself in hand.

Hermione moaned as Severus began to enter her and when he was fully sheathed they were still for a moment, panting. He brought his hand up to cup her breast, squeezing it lightly as he thrust inside of her. And the force of the sensation wrought a ragged moan from deep inside of her. She begged him for more, but he maintained the agonizing rhythm, leisurely pressing into her as his hand swept down to tease her again. "Oh, please!" she whimpered, struggling against him for a faster pace. But he only wrapped his other arm around her waist and held her still against him. "Oh gods!" she cried as she neared the brink. Her whole body seemed ready to shatter at any moment.

"Mmmm, Hermione," he growled into her ear and the sound sent her over the edge, her body suddenly tightening as pulsing waves of pleasure coursed through her like a shock of ecstasy.

"Oh, Severus!" she cried in a rough, broken voice through the force of her climax. And she shuddered against him from the strength of it. But as she panted into the morning air, he continued to thrust slowly inside of her. "Mmmmm," she whimpered as he kissed her shoulder, nibbling it lightly with his teeth.

"Tell me if this starts to hurt," he commanded, and he pushed her onto her stomach, bracing his arms on either side of her and beginning to move a little faster. The position teased that tender place within her until she felt ready to burst all over again.

"Oh gods," she moaned into the pillows as he moved one hand to grip her waist and hold her still. And he began to plunge faster and farther into her until she was struggling from the agony of imminent release. "Yes!" she cried. The ecstasy of it was almost painful in its intensity as she submitted to his pleasure. It felt marvelously wicked. "Oh please!" she cried. She was close again already. "Harder," she moaned against the sheets and he was happy to comply.

"Oh Merlin!" he groaned as he drove into her harder and faster than before. "Come for me again, Hermione. I won't last much longer." As soon as the words left his mouth she shattered beneath him, crying out as harsh tremors wracked her body. And he gripped her waist as his thrusts became erratic. "Oh yes!" he moaned as he hammered into her a few more times. And then with one deep thrust, his body stiffened above her and she could feel his hot seed exploding inside of her. "Ohhh!" he groaned in ecstasy, "Hermione!" And then he collapsed on top of her and his breath came quick as his body relaxed. But all she could think about was the way he'd shouted her name.  _Mine. No one else's._  And she couldn't suppress a smile.

* * *

Hermione was practically walking on air as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. They had decided that the Common Room would probably not be empty at this hour, so it was better that she walked back. But he had given her one of his shirts and transfigured it into a pretty white dress, and she could not stop running her hands over the material and thinking of him. She knew he was right that she couldn't stay there all day. Her friends would worry. But if she'd had a choice, she never would have left his arms at all. She was just remembering the way he had touched her, smiling like a fool, when a portrait on the dungeon wall suddenly swung open and three Slytherin girls appeared. Hermione froze as she met Pansy Parkinson's eye.

"Well, well," the girl sneered, "what's a lion doing in the serpent's lair?" The girls behind her giggled maliciously. "Did he have you for breakfast, Granger?" She smirked horribly. "Or… did  _you_  have  _him_?"

Hermione glared at the three cackling girls and tried to push past them, but Pansy stopped her and pushed her into the middle of the hall where the Slytherins formed a circle around her, trapping her effectively. "Let me go," she told them sternly.

"Or what? You'll run and tell on us?" Parkinson laughed. "Do you really think he'll take your side?" Then she looked at her friends. "You should have seen the little princess blush when I caught her with him in the Astronomy Tower. Fully clothed and everything, but she was panting, I swear. Oh yes, Granger, I saw how you were trembling. The desire in your eyes. He's a damn good kisser, isn't he?"

That gave Hermione pause. Was the other girl speaking from experience? No, she was only hazarding a guess. Maybe she meant to scare her or make her jealous. She set her jaw and refused to give anything away, while she waited for the first opportunity to escape.

"You know," Pansy began again, "I wouldn't mind a taste of old Snape. I bet he's kinky, isn't he? I bet he makes you do all sorts of naughty things, ay Granger? Things you never woulda dreamed of doing, 'cept he gave you no choice." She laughed. "But you like it, don't you Granger?"

Still, Hermione held her tongue, only glaring at the other girl. And suddenly, there were footfalls around the corner and the three Slytherins scattered with a whispered " _I'll be sure to give you my opinion once I've tried him._ " Hermione was angrier than she could have said, but when Luna Lovegood suddenly appeared from around the bend, some of that anger left her in a puzzled laugh.

"Oh, hello, Hermione," the Ravenclaw said dreamily.

Hermione smiled at her. "Luna, how is it that you always show up when I'm being cornered by somebody?"

Luna only shrugged and smiled at her Gryffindor friend. "I just go where my feet take me," she explained, "and oftentimes my feet take me strange places." Hermione laughed at that. Some of her good mood from before seemed to be returning with Luna's presence. There was just something about the girl—some positive energy perhaps—that made it hard to stay angry or even sad. She was about to tell the girl just that when the Slytherin Portrait door swung open again and they both turned their heads to see none other than Draco Malfoy himself appear. "Hello Draco," Luna said.

Malfoy was clearly surprised to see them there, but he gave no greeting and Hermione could see a dusty pink tone rising in his pale complexion. "What are  _you_  doing here, Granger?" he asked in a cruel voice. "Waiting for someone?"

Hermione glared at him. "It's none of your business,  _Malfoy,_ " she told him.

Malfoy snorted haughtily. "As if your business was your own," he said, and Hermione gave him a warning look. But he refused to back down. "Never mind," he told her, "I can  _imagine_  what you've been doing."

"Imagining can be very useful," Luna informed them. "I can imagine what you've been doing, too, Draco."

Malfoy bristled at her use of his first name. It clearly made him very uncomfortable, but he didn't reproach her. "No one cares what you've been dreaming up, Lovegood," he told her. "I haven't been exorcising Nargles if that's what you think."

"I know," she told him, "And you weren't last time, either, really. It's good you've stopped bullying, though," she smiled up at him and Hermione felt distinctly uneasy with this turn in the conversation. "I'm quite proud of you," the little blonde girl said.

Malfoy was clearly baffled. It was obvious from his expression that he wasn't sure how to take that. But his eyes flickered to Hermione with an almost guilty or embarrassed look. "You don't know what I've been doing," he argued defensively. But Luna only smiled.

"I can't say for sure," she began hesitantly, "but I guess that you were writing a letter." There was a quiet moment in which Malfoy and Hermione both stared incredulously down at Luna. Then the Slytherin's hand shot to his pocket and pinched it as if to assure himself that its contents had not been removed.

"How did you know that?" he demanded suspiciously.

"It's quite obvious really," she told him, "You don't usually go to breakfast alone, you see. And when you do, mostly it's because you have a letter."

Malfoy was staring down at her with a strange expression. If Hermione didn't know better, she might think that he was flattered.

"Who are you writing?" she asked him.

"My mum," he told her, deep in thought. Then his face turned bright red and he glanced over at Hermione before scowling back down at the pretty blonde. "And anyway, it's none of your business," he said and he stomped off without another word.

Luna watched after him with sadness in her eyes. "It's never good to use anger as a shield," she said. "Hate can't protect you, you know." But Hermione could only stare down at the strange girl and nod. There was something about Luna. She just couldn't figure out what it was.

* * *

"Aha!" Ginny exclaimed as she slipped into the Occlumency classroom ten minutes before the start of the lesson. "I knew you'd be here early!" Hermione hadn't seen the other girl all day. She'd taken the time to catch up on her readings and assignments from the peaceful confines of the Hogwarts Library. She smiled up at her friend.

"Hello Ginny."

"Hello? Hermione, you disappeared! I mean, one moment you're there, the next you're gone, and you don't turn up until time for lessons. Have you been in bed all day?" She leered teasingly at the other girl and Hermione choked on a laugh.

"Of course not," she replied, "I've been in the library."

"Uh huh, sure," said Ginny, unconvinced. "So tell me… when you said he was going to Summon you… I mean… he can actually  _Summon_ you? Like a House Elf?"

"Exactly like a House Elf," Hermione replied, drily.

"Wow." Ginny took a moment to let that sink in. "That's pretty hot," she said. "And speaking of which… how was your  _night?_ "

Hermione grinned unabashedly up at her. "Fantastic."

Ginny's eyes lit up. "I told you! I told you about the pajamas, didn't I?"

The older girl nodded meaningfully. "You were  _so_  right."

"Ha!" the redhead exclaimed. "Now tell me the truth. You spent the night there, don't try to deny it. So what about when you woke up?"

" _Mmm_ ," was all Hermione could say. Thoughts of the morning started pouring into her head and she had to force herself back to present. "Gods, Ginny," she murmured, "I'll tell you one thing: there is something to be said for a Potion Master's hands."

Ginny's jaw dropped and she shook her head in embarrassment. "Bloody hell. Who would have thought? Severus Snape, lover extraordinaire." She giggled as the older girl swatted her arm. Then a thought came to Hermione and she frowned in thought. "Hermione?" Ginny murmured, sounding concerned. "What is it?"

Hermione turned to look at the other girl and began to blush horribly. "It's just…" she broke off on a nervous laugh, but Ginny's raised eyebrows begged her to continue. "I… uh… I never understood why there were so many positions…"

Ginny frowned in confusion a moment before understanding dawned and she laughed aloud. "Hermione, you devil! What did you do?"

Hermione blushed crimson and gave Ginny an embarrassed smile. "Well," she began, "I woke up in his arms, my back against his chest…"

"Uh huh… And his morning stiffy in your back…" Ginny nodded, understanding.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, well, we stayed like that for a while, just talking… and touching…"

"And then he took you from behind?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted, blushing fiercely.

"Merlin," Ginny muttered, fanning herself. "Even I have to admit, that is damn sexy. He didn't have to either, did he?" Hermione shook her head. "Mmmm," Ginny hummed. "Sounds like you softened the old bat." She smirked, her eyes slanting at Hermione. "That is, I suppose you  _hardened_  him first!" They both had to laugh at that, but then Ginny turned serious. "Has he told you he loves you, yet?"

The question sent a shock through Hermione. But how could she tell the other girl that Severus would never love her, because he loved another? Her mood turned sad in an instant, but she tried to hide it from her friend. "Don't be silly, Gin," she said, "It's just lust; not love." But even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true. There was more to his feelings for her than that. But was it love? No. There was a lot of grey ground between lust and love. It was probably something in between; like affection.

"I don't know…" murmured Ginny, knowingly. But then the door opened and they both fell silent.

"Granger," Malfoy greeted, "Weasley."

"Malfoy," Ginny said.

"Good afternoon," Hermione murmured idly. She had a hunch about Draco Malfoy. And if she was correct, a little politeness could go a long way. But for now he only eyed her suspiciously and took a seat across the room from the two Gryffindors. There was a long moment of silence.

"So…" Ginny finally began, cutting into the quiet, "have you thought about a costume for Slughorn's masquerade?"

Hermione blinked. "I had forgotten all about it."

"Well it's still two weeks away, but apparently he's to give out prizes for best costumes and the like. I haven't decided yet, either, but I'd like to wear something crimson. I like the way the color looks with my hair."

Hermione thought about that a moment. "You could be a phoenix," she suggested.

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Brilliant! Only, I don't want to take your idea… in case you wanted to be a phoenix…"

"No, that's okay, Gin. I think I'd rather do something a bit… subtler."

"Hmmm," said Gin, "How about a lioness? No, I guess that's not subtle either. Plus Snape would have a cow. Maybe you could be… a librarian? Ha!" Across the room, even Draco Malfoy snickered at that one. But Hermione pretended not to notice. "No? Okay… you could be some kind of fairy… or a goddess… you could go as a witch!" When Ginny Weasley had learned that Muggles often dressed as witches for Halloween, she had fallen into hysterics. But right now, Hermione was too preoccupied to share her laughter. She had latched onto something else that Ginny had said.  _I could be a goddess._

Just then, the door burst open again and Harry and Ron entered together, grumbling. "…waste of a Sunday night," Ron was muttering.

"It's completely pointless," Harry agreed. "Some people just can't learn Occlumency. Snape said so himself last time. If I couldn't learn it then, I don't know why he expects me to learn it now." Hermione gasped under her breath and looked up to see Malfoy's confused eyes grow wider and wider with comprehension. And then the door banged open once more and their professor stepped inside. Even after everything they had been through together, his dramatic entrances still made her heart leap up into her throat and hammer wildly. Or, was that  _because_  of everything they'd been through?

"I hope you have all been practicing your meditations," the dark professor growled. "Now, who shall have the pleasure of initiating our little lesson?"

* * *

As Severus headed back to the dungeons that evening, he brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Another long lesson with the Golden Trio and company had brought about a monstrous headache. And at the moment, he would like nothing better than a pain potion and a bed to collapse into.  _Except perhaps someone to collapse next to me._  Severus grinned, imagining how wonderful it would feel to have Hermione rub his aching back. And he almost groaned aloud at the prospect of her massaging various  _other_  parts of his anatomy as well.

As he neared his office, he was practically hard with need, and already wondering if Hermione would consent to be Summoned for no reason at all. He didn't doubt that she would. And that thought left him so hard that he had to hurry the rest of way to his office door and slip out of the hall before someone chanced upon him and noticed the embarrassing bulge in the front of his trousers. But as the door shut behind him, Severus came to an abrupt halt. There, stretched out across his desk, clad in a skimpy black dress was Miss Pansy Parkinson. Keeping his face neutral, he averted his eyes from her beckoning figure.

"Miss Parkinson," he began in a scolding tone, "What on Earth do you think you are doing?"

To his dismay, she slowly slid off of his desk, scattering parchment across the floor, and swayed her way over to him. "What do  _you_  think I'm doing,  _Professor?"_  He did not like the husky caress in her voice one bit.

"If you are wise, you are currently headed back to your dorm," he replied. When she brought a hand up to his chest and ran along the row of buttons, he stepped away from her in shock. But she only followed him until he was pressed against the door. "Miss Parkinson, do not force me to deduct points from my own House. I do not know what has brought about this outrageous behavior, but I assure you it is not welcome."

Miss Parkinson brought her hand back to the front of his frock coat. "The evidence is to the contrary,  _Professor_ ," she purred as her hand slipped down his chest to grope his aching erection. Severus jerked away, sweeping behind his desk and silently casting wards to keep her from reaching him again.

"Miss Parkinson," he began again, in his lecture tone, "You are a student and I am your professor. This behavior is wrong and I cannot allow it." She only quirked her lips at him and slinked toward his desk, leaning her hands against it to give him a good view of her ample breasts. But he maintained eye contact with the girl and hoped she saw the censure there.

"That doesn't stop you from fucking Granger, does it? And I promise you, Professor, I can be much more fun." Severus bristled, but could not let her see his rage.

"Miss Granger is no more than a slave, and a muggle-born to boot.  _You_  are a pureblood witch and daughter to one of my brothers."

"My point exactly," she argued.

He shook his head. "I will not disrespect you or your father by treating you the same as a mudblood whore."

"What if I  _want_  to be disrespected?" she pouted. And Severus was filled with disgust.

"Then I am afraid I must disappoint you. Now leave me and get back to your dorm or I will be forced to give you detention. With  _Filch_ ," he added as he noticed her lewd smirk.

At that, she glared hatefully down at him before stomping angrily to the door. Severus lowered his face to his hands and pressed his fingers into the corners of his eyes. He did not look up until he heard his office door slam.  _Merlin_ , he thought.  _When did the world go insane?_

Too disgusted to fulfill his earlier fantasies, Severus downed a healthy portion of pain potion and took a freezing shower before collapsing on his bed. And even then, as sleep began to claim him, Severus pictured her face and smiled.


	34. Chapter 34

"What's all this?" he asked her as she dumped a pile of books and parchment on his desk.

"My research," she informed him. "You and I are in this together, after all, and I think that this may be important. What can we possibly hope to accomplish if we do not work together? There are dire stakes and I believe it is imperative that we be completely honest with each other."

Those cinnamon eyes were staring stubbornly back at him, and Severus had to suppress a smile. The chit certainly had a knack for bringing about that unfamiliar urge.

He hesitated a moment to make her squirm, but she did not back down. "Will you be assigning homework as well?" he asked her. Those pretty lips quirked up in humor at that and it made his chest swell to see her laughing at his jest. In his experience, laughter was cruel and mocking. But it was never like that with  _her_ ; with Hermione.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm not even asking you to read the books, though I did think that you would want to anyway. Silly me. I do hope you can focus long enough to hear my explanations, though."

He sneered up at her, wanting nothing more than to sweep her into his chambers and remove the many layers she was currently wearing.  _Most inconvenient_. But the prospect of her research drew his interest away from that horrid, loose sweater and he picked up the first book. "Astrology? Surely you do not mean to interpret my horoscope."

She laughed again and the corner of his mouth twitched with the desire to express the burgeoning emotion within him. "It's more relevant than you may think," Hermione told him.

 _Doubtful_ , he thought, but ridiculously he trusted her enough to give the book a chance. "Chaos, Alchemy, Mythology, Serpents, Infinity? Forgive me if I cannot imagine how these books relate to each other, much less the war ahead of us." Severus knew that his expression was harsher than his words warranted, but he was overcompensating for the happiness he had never before had to suppress.

"Trust me. What are the odds that these texts have all fallen into my hands since reading that Chaos Theory text and just happen to lead me to the ideas that may eventually become a plan for the war? Just look over them. Allow me to explain my reasoning. If that prophecy is to be believed, I play an important part in the dark lord's defeat. Who is to say that this research is not the reason for that? And once you understand where I'm coming from, perhaps you can help me make sense of my conclusions."

Finally, Severus allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to grace his lips. Damn but he loved her enthusiasm. And intellect. And those inquisitive cinnamon eyes. And that impertinent, sweet red mouth. Drawing his eyes away from her tempting figure, he withdrew some of the parchments. "Alright. I will indulge you. But first, there is something else I ought to tell you, since we are a team and we are being open and honest. The only reason I have not told you this before now is that I wanted to understand it better before proceeding. I wanted to be able to explain it to you. Unfortunately, it seems we will need to wait a while for any conclusive reports, but the picture has become significantly clearer. You remember that research into portkeys that the Headmaster was attempting? Well, it turns out that this particular curse has actually transformed you into a conditional portkey. He is doing further research at the moment to discern whether or not the direction can be reversed, how many people you might be able to take with you, etc. But the Headmaster believes it has something to do with the prophecy."

Hermione's eyes were wide with shock and curiosity. "A conditional portkey?"

"Yes."

"And you believe I may be able to transfer other people?"

"That is the hope, at least."

"If that is the case, we could bring the Order to the dark lord, unsuspecting." She was practically buzzing with excitement, but Severus was more skeptical.

"It would be unwise to force a fight with the dark lord without bringing the Potter boy into it. We already know that 'one must die at the hand of the other.' But it would be foolish to deliver the  _Chosen One_  to the Death Eaters when we have no advantage but the element of surprise."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "That is true." He could see that she was forming an idea. "But what if we were to transport the dark lord to the Order?"

Severus felt a flare of fear at her words. "Too dangerous," he declared automatically, without even considering the advantages of such a plan. It would be suicide for Hermione, and that was a price he was not willing to pay.

"But it might be the best hope we have," she argued.

He wouldn't hear it. "We don't even know if it is possible, yet. Further speculation at this point is merely a waste of time."

The look she gave him told him that she didn't believe that, but she held her tongue.

"Are you going to lecture me about Chaos Theory or not?" It was a last ditch effort to sway her from the topic, but it proved effective nevertheless. Her face lit up with passion for the knowledge she wished to impart and Severus wondered when his own passion had grown so cold. He understood the feeling in those rosy cheeks and shining eyes, but he could not remember the last time he had felt so exulted. But watching Hermione as she explained her recent findings brought stirrings of those emotions to his heart. And he realized that she had awakened something within him that he had believed long gone; something that he had never missed until now, but that could easily consume him if he was not careful.

Because for the first time in a long time, Severus Snape was filled with passion once again.

* * *

"Get on with it," Harry urged his best mate as he pushed him toward Hermione. The girl merely raised an eyebrow in wary curiosity.

"You're only making it harder," the stubborn redhead complained. Hermione squinted her eyes, closing the book on her lap and leaning back into the chair. Whatever it was, it was probably bad. "Alright, alright," Ron finally conceded as his messy-haired friend shoved him forward. "Er… Hermione…" he began awkwardly, "er… that is… Halloween is coming up and… well, Slughorn's party is supposed to be a hit. He's bringing in a load of his most famous friends. And a vampire even! And anyway… it's by invitation only… but you can bring a date… and, well, you're one of his favorites, so you're sure to get an invite. But he can't hardly remember my real name, so I don't reckon I'll be on the list, and… well, I was hoping… since it's not like you can bring Snape… maybe… you'd… want to go with me?"

Hermione only stared up at her daft friend. "Sure, Ron. You can go with me."

"Really? Brilliant! Thanks Hermione!" the relieved redhead collapsed gracelessly onto the couch beside her and Harry took one of the chairs.

"Yeah," Harry began in a tired voice, "I'll be going with Luna and Ginny's going with Neville, so that way we'll all get to go."

"You've really put a lot of thought into this," Hermione noted with surprise.

"Yeah, well… It was that or Transfiguration homework." The dark-haired boy smirked playfully at her and Hermione could only roll her eyes.

"How do you two expect to pass your NEWTS if you can't even keep up with the daily assignments?"

"Don't get her started, Harry," Ron warned, "With our luck she'll make us sit out the festivities when we beat Ravenclaw this Saturday."

Hermione wrinkled her brow. "A Quidditch match already?"

"Already?" Harry laughed. "It's a week later than last year! We've been waiting on pins and needles!"

"Aw man," Ron cut in in a low, worried tone, turning to Hermione, "What are you going to do when we play Slytherin? You better cheer for us! I don't care what the old bat says. Oh but, bloody hell, what if he  _orders_  you to cheer for them? What if he orders you to sabotage our team?!" Ron was working himself into a tizzy.

"Don't be absurd," Hermione scolded, "You know he doesn't use his power over me like that."

Harry looked like he was about to say something on the subject, but he bit it back.

"Oh, come on!" she grumbled. "You two are completely ridiculous. Can't you just accept that I am working with Professor Snape,  _as a team_ , and that I am on good terms with him? You're so blind with your hate for him that you can't even see the truth right under your noses. Honestly, if he were truly so terrible, do you really believe I would be defending him like this?"

The boys huffed in silence for a moment before Ron spoke up. "Maybe if he  _ordered_  you to."

It was all Hermione could do to keep from throwing up her hands and leaving them in their stubborn anger. "Look, Professor Snape is an Order member, like it or not. If you can't trust  _my_  judgment, surely you trust Dumbledore. It seems rather silly to me. Shouldn't we save our anger for the real enemy?"

Harry seemed properly shamed by that and he suddenly drooped where he sat, revealing the tired visage of a boy who had too much to worry about and no one to shoulder the burden. She wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that it would all be alright, that they were in it together and would always be there when he needed them. She wanted to tell him about the prophecy and her research and that of Dumbledore. But Harry spoke before she knew what to say. "Hermione, I know you mean well, and I know you trust Snape, but you have to remember that he's a spy. One side or the other is wrong about him and they're both positive that he's loyal. Do you honestly believe he tells you everything?"

But Hermione had no answer for him. Because that was a question she had often asked herself. And she couldn't truthfully say that she believed he did.

* * *

There was a knock at his office door and Severus bade the visitor enter. When the haughty face of Draco Malfoy appeared, he could not say that he was surprised, but he could not deny that he was disappointed.

"Good evening Mr. Malfoy."

"Professor," Draco greeted curtly. Severus was unaffected by his tone, for he knew that the arrogant blond boy used such rudeness to cover up vulnerability. And it seemed that Draco Malfoy was feeling particularly vulnerable today.

"How may I assist you?" Severus prompted when no explanation was forthcoming.

Draco fingered the edge of a scroll on the desk and did not meet his professor's gaze. "I wanted to talk to you about our Occlumency lessons," he began at last.

"Yes?"

"Well, I just think it's unfair for me to have to take lessons with the lot of  _them_ ," he complained. Severus made no response, but considered his words and his tone and searched for some hidden meaning. It was not unusual or unexpected coming from the young Slytherin, but something in the way he would not meet his godfather's gaze made Severus immediately suspicious. His silence was soon rewarded when Draco could bear it no longer. "I could still have the lessons," he allowed, "but… just not with them."  _Odd indeed._

"I am afraid I will have to refuse, Mr. Malfoy. My schedule is difficult enough to plan as it is, and you can benefit from the mistakes that your classmates make in lessons, as well as your own."

Draco was unhappy, but unsurprised as he continued to toy with the end of the scroll. "Then perhaps if you included more of my own House…"

"Don't be absurd. You are grasping at straws, Mr. Malfoy, but you know why we cannot permit anyone else to know of these lessons."

"What if it was someone we knew we could trust?"

Severus suppressed his immediate thought that no one in Slytherin House could be trusted. Such an answer would not become the Slytherin Head. "My final answer is no, Mr. Malfoy." The boy frowed unhappily and Severus could see the lines of worry etched into his brow.  _He is under a great deal of stress as well._  "Draco," he began again, using the familiar term to reach out to the boy, "is there anything you wish to speak to me about?"

There was a long pause before the boy shook his head, and when his godson's eyes finally met his, they were full of doubt, confusion, and fear. "Thank you for your time, Professor," the boy hurried to say, standing to leave before Severus had a chance to speak again. His use of the formal title was not lost on the dark spy. "Good evening," he murmured as he slipped out of the office, leaving Severus to stare at the dark wood of his door and wonder about this strange behavior from his good friend's son.

* * *

Gryffindor was putting up a spectacular show for the first Quidditch match of the season. Harry was zipping around the stadium in search of the Snitch as Ginny repeatedly stole the Quaffle from the Ravenclaws and Ron blocked almost every goal. The crowds were in an uproar, screaming enthusiastically at every turn, even as the Ravenclaws across the way were so apparently unhappy. And yet, through all of this, Hermione could only think of one thing:  _He hasn't called me._

It had been a week since Severus had last called her to him. And though she had been summoned for business, they had made love in the morning for no reason at all. But that seemed a world away after a week apart, and she had to admit she was hurt that he hadn't asked her to come to him since. A couple of times, she could have sworn he was planning to invite her down to the dungeons, but he hadn't yet. And she didn't want to go to him herself, because it was already clear enough that she felt more for him than he felt for her and she didn't want to push anything on him that he didn't want.  _But he called me Hermione._

 _So what? Does that mean he loves you? No. It means he is disgusted by the prospect of sleeping with a student, and it became necessary to address each other more informally._  But Hermione could not convince herself that this was true. She could still feel his arms around her and hear her name on his voice as he came deep within her. There was no doubting the affection in his tone. So, why had he been so cold and remote ever since? Oh, she had seen him often enough. They had Occlumency lessons three nights a week and she had met with him a few times to discuss research, but he hadn't so much as touched her in all that time.

When Harry caught the Snitch and Gryffindor won, Hermione had to remind herself to smile and cheer. And as their House carried the team back to the castle, she found herself falling behind, looking back at the stands, wondering if  _he_  was there. But he made no appearance, and she eventually caught up to her Housemates and congratulated her friends on a superb victory amidst the chaos of the Common Room. When it came to Quidditch her word didn't count for much, but as their friend she knew that it mattered.

"Did you see the way he swooped down and pulled out  _just in time!?_ " Ginny asked. "No one can catch a Snitch like Harry!" In her excitement, the pretty redhead jumped into Harry's arms and kissed him full on the mouth; a gesture which he eagerly returned.

"Loads of people can do that," he replied shyly. "But  _you_  were unstoppable! I lost count of the number of times you stole the Quaffle! Those Ravenclaws have nothing on you." The statement was made extra sweet by the history Harry had with a certain Ravenclaw Seeker, and Ginny met his mouth once more in a tender kiss.

"Yeah alright, but what about me?" Ron interjected. The rest of them laughed.

"You blocked almost all of them!" Hermione put in enthusiastically. That much she knew.

But Ron's face seemed to darken at that. "Yeah," he muttered, " _almost._ "

"You were fantastic, Ron!" Harry hurried to tell him. "You're a bloody brilliant Keeper!" His best friend beamed at that. "I'm not going to kiss you, though," Harry joked, and they were all laughing again.

When the scent of fire whiskey began to fill the air and the most outspoken Gryffindors shouted toasts to the Quidditch team, Hermione began to feel more and more distant from the scene around her. She refused a glass of the amber liquid, as both other brushes with the substance had been disastrous, and headed toward the Portrait Hole.

It wasn't until she was out in the hall that she knew what she was planning to do. But she couldn't help the pull of her feet in the direction of the dungeons and she didn't have much reason to resist. After all, it had been a week. Surely that showed some measure of willpower. And yet, as she neared her professor's door, Hermione began to have second thoughts. What if he was busy? What if he was with someone else? What if he didn't want her?

But it didn't bear thinking about, so Hermione knocked on the door.

"Enter," a deep voice called out and Hermione's heart leapt in her chest and her stomach did a nervous somersault as fiery anticipation began to tighten her loins. She opened the door.

Severus Snape kept his face completely, infuriatingly blank when she entered and she could feel her resolve weakening. "Good afternoon, Professor."

"Good afternoon," he returned, but he hesitated and did not include her name. "Come to teach me more about Sagittarius?" he teased. Hermione wasn't fooled. She knew that he had taken her ideas seriously, but was loathe to give her credit for anything outside of the bedchamber.  _Stubborn bastard._

 _Alright, Hermione, what's it going to be? Retreat to the safe topic of research or do what you came to do?_ She could have smiled because really there was no choice.  _Walk on the wild side_ , she told herself as she took a few steps toward her professor. "Not exactly," she murmured in what she hoped was a sultry tone. "Although, I hear that Mars is soon to be  _in_  Virgo. Would you care to discuss the implications of  _that?_ " Hermione's lips quirked as she neared her frozen professor. There was hunger in his eyes to be sure, but also uncertainty. Well, she couldn't blame him for that. If anything, it just meant that she would need to compensate for it. It was a damn shame she was so bundled up in sweaters, but she'd just have to make do.

"I understand that can be particularly fortuitous," Severus replied, finally. His voice was deep and smooth and dangerous and it sent curls of desire down her spine. "It is supposed to be a good time to make connections," he smirked, "to join together," Hermione leaned across his desk, supporting her weight on her hands, "to… take off ridiculously shapeless sweaters." He met her eyes and she could see the command in those inky depths, though he had not voiced it as such. And she obeyed without question, but of her own free will.

"Like this?" she asked him. Severus leaned back in his chair, his eyes caressing her body before meeting her own gaze once more. There was hesitance. He did not want to ask it of her. Was he still so worried about their roles as teacher and student? Well… she wasn't. And to demonstrate that, she began by slowly removing the rest of her clothes until she stood before him completely nude. Those black eyes seemed to devour her flesh with their fiery intensity. Then, as she was contemplating her next move, his wand shot out so quickly that she barely had the chance to register surprise before she felt the tug of a Summons and found herself falling into his lap with a muffled "Oh!"

Severus grinned up at her as she straddled him and began to run his hands along the curves of her body. "Mmmmm," he moaned in approval. Then he pulled her tight against him and met her mouth in a gentle kiss. The contact sent a ripple of pleasure to her core as Hermione opened her mouth to him and brought her hands to the buttons on his frock coat.

"Please," she whimpered, and he moaned against her mouth. Then he slid a hand down the little row of buttons and they undid themselves magically. "Mmmmm," she moaned as she pushed it off his shoulders and turned her attention to the front of his trousers.

"Oh gods," he groaned as she slipped a hand inside, caressing the length of him as her tongue brushed against his. And then he stood, lifting her with him and laying her across the desk in one swift movement. And he groaned as he pressed his body against hers, crushing her into the hard wood as their lips tangled. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and thrilled at the sensation of his stiff erection pressed between her legs. "Please," he begged her as one hand came up to grasp her breast.

"Yes," she whimpered against his mouth. And Severus did not hesitate once permission was given. Pushing slowly inside of her, he did not stop until he was fully sheathed. "Oh," she gasped as he continued to kiss her, moving slowly but forcefully inside of her. Hermione was amazed that he could be so fierce and tender all at once.

Severus broke away from her mouth and withdrew his own face only far enough to meet her gaze. And they maintained eye contact as he thrust into her harder and more urgently. Tears sprang to her eyes from the pure emotion of it, but she did not look away. Instead, she smiled up at him as he made love to her on his desk. And he brushed her mouth with his again in the softest gesture. In his eyes, she could see that this was more than sex. In his touch, she could feel how much he cared. And she knew that the passion of his movement was his passion for  _her._

"Oh please," she whimpered, and he quickened the pace, thrusting harder and deeper with every eager movement. The sensation was so overwhelming that she felt she might burst, and she met his eyes with her own, hoping to communicate silently those words he would be afraid to hear.  _I love you,_  she thought with her gaze, and tears burst from her eyes even as she shattered beneath him. Shocks of pleasure fell over her, pulsing through her as she shuddered underneath him, crying out wordlessly without breaking eye contact. And she saw a sudden raw intensity blossom in those dark depths as he thrust a couple more times inside of her before stiffening and grunting raggedly as he poured his seed inside of her.

When his body relaxed, he did not collapse against her, but instead braced himself to look down into her weeping eyes. He brought a hand up to brush away the tears and run his knuckles along her cheek before meeting her mouth with his own and slowly, tenderly kissing her for a long moment. There was no doubting the sentiment in that kiss. And when he pulled away again, his eyes were full of some indiscernible emotion. And she had a feeling he was about to say something.

But suddenly there was a roar in the fireplace and Severus ripped away from her.

"Severus?" Dumbledore's voice called. The floo was obscured from view by the curve of the wall and the shelves of jars and books that lay between. "May I come in?"

The dark man's eyes were horrorstricken as he gaped for something to say. "Uhh," he began, reaching for Hermione and pulling her from the desk, "certainly, Albus."

Hermione was suddenly being stuffed under his desk and he wordlessly Summoned her clothes, stuffing them down with her, and redressed himself with a wave of his wand as the Headmaster stepped through the floo. Within seconds, he was seated at his desk just as he would have been if Hermione hadn't come at all.

The floor was cold and the space was cramped and it was difficult to keep from laughing at the hilarity of the situation in which they found themselves. She did not know much about dressing with magic and was therefore resigned to wait until the Headmaster left before clothing herself.

"I am afraid I have bad news, Severus," the Headmaster sighed. That caught her attention. "If my calculations are correct—and I think we both agree that they very likely are—it seems Miss Granger may not be able to transport nearly as much as we had hoped. In fact, it seems to me that it would be quite risky for her to transport any live person at all. I believe she may transport objects, however, so that may be useful. But I cannot imagine how that could possibly be the  _key._ "

"Hmmm," Severus groaned. "That does complicate the matter."

"Quite. And it seemed so very convenient and wonderfully ironic that Tom could have given us the link that would bring his demise to his doorstep. But alas, if it is not to be, it is not to be. I will continue with my research, but I am not optimistic that any different conclusion could be drawn. I confess myself heavily disappointed." The old man certainly sounded upset.

"As am I," Severus agreed. "But this does not alter the truth of the prophecy. There must be some other advantage we have not yet discovered. I feel certain that we shall unearth it eventually."

"Perhaps," agreed Dumbledore, "But will it be in time?"

Hermione felt around the dark space beneath the desk and gathered up her clothing as the Headmaster took his leave. And when Severus finally stood to allow for her escape, Hermione crawled out into the light with an impish grin on her face.

"Forgive me," he murmured at once. "I only wished to avoid Albus's judgment. Unfortunately, he has too much power over us to be trusted with knowledge of this…" He could not seem to name it, but Hermione knew what it was. Whether he liked it or not, they had a personal relationship now.

"That's alright," Hermione told him as he began to pace the room, deep in thought. She deposited her clothing on his desk in order to sort them out. And was surprised to see a splash of bright pink mixed into the folds. Frowning, she tugged it loose to discover that it was a pair of thong underwear. Hermione's immediate instinct was to stuff it back into the pile and pray the professor hadn't noticed. But he was still pacing.  _What the hell is this?_  she wondered. Her breath began to come in shallow, quick gasps and her heart seemed to hammer painfully in her chest. "After all," she improvised, "we're a team, right?"

"Certainly," he agreed mid-stride.

"And we are open and honest with each other?"

"Of course."

"Severus," she murmured, hoping to get his attention. He stopped and turned to face her with concern clear in his eyes. "Are you keeping something from me?"

He was quiet for a long moment, in which his face became a mask and he seemed to be thinking hard. "I am a spy for two sides of the war that will decide the fate of the Wizarding World. It is necessary for me to keep some secrets to myself."

Hermione shook her head. "Not that kind of secret. I just…" she paused as tears came unbidden to her eyes. "I was just wondering if there was anything that you wanted to tell me…"  _It's not what it looks like. It's not what it looks like._

Again, he paused a long moment before hesitantly shaking his head.

"Alright," she said almost angrily, her voice rough. She pulled the pink undergarment from her little pile of clothes. "So what is this, then?" She held the offending object up so that he would be sure to see what it was. And for another long moment, he was still. This time, however, it was a very guilty pause, and Hermione didn't like the feel of it at all.

"I can honestly tell you that I have never seen those before," he began, "but I have an idea of its original source."

Hermione was not sure if she wanted to hear or not. Had he had some whore down here before she was in the picture? Did he have a girlfriend at some other point? A girlfriend with really slutty tastes in undergarments? She gestured for him to continue.

"Well… when I returned to the office late the other night… Miss Parkinson was here waiting for me. She… eh… implied that she wanted… to… to seduce me…"

"What!?"

"I sent her out immediately, I assure you."

"Minus her underwear!?"

"She must have deposited them there while she was waiting," he floundered defensively.

"Oh gods! She was  _naked?_ "

"No! Gods no. she was wearing a dress."

"Oh great! You remember what she was wearing. So why didn't you fuck her then? Or did you? Did you fuck her on the desktop too?"

"Don't be ridiculous! I do not make it a habit to sleep with my students!"

"Ohhh great!" Hermione threw up her hands in anger.

"Hermione, listen... she was jealous of you, that's all. But I told her I wasn't interested."

"Oh really? So… why didn't you tell me?" Hermione was trembling with rage and hurt, and she knew she was being petty and insecure. But this really didn't sit well with her.

"I did not think it was relevant. Nothing happened. I do not run to you with stories about my Slytherins."

"You know it's not like that! Did she kiss you?"

"No, of course not!"

"She didn't touch you at all?"

"No—well…"

"What? Tell me."

"Ehm… that is… she took me by surprise, you see. And she did… she did sort of grab me."

"Oh gods! I can't believe you didn't tell me! And here I was  _defending_ you while Harry's telling me that I'm foolish to think that you confide anything in me. And here you go and prove me wrong!"

"Hermione," he pleaded, "please. It wasn't like that. It was truly nothing of consequence. I swear it."

"I told you about Sirius," she reminded him in a low, hurt voice. "How would you feel if you found out about it a week later  _by accident_? As if I never planned to tell you at all?"

Severus was outraged. "Well that's entirely different! He took advantage of you!"

"It doesn't matter! I didn't  _have_  to tell you. But I did, because I wanted to be honest with you." She glared at him as she pulled on her clothes. "I have to go," she told him when she was dressed. "Good day, Professor." He seemed to flounder for a response, but before he had the chance, she was out the door and hurrying back to Gryffindor Tower.

 _What else hasn't he told me?_  she asked herself. She had not felt so hurt since the beginning of their little  _relationship_ , if you could even call it that.  _Oh gods, I was a fool. He was never open with me at all._


	35. Chapter 35

"Was I being irrational?" Hermione asked her pretty redheaded friend as the two girls lounged idly across the brunette's mattress.

"Absolutely not!" Ginny replied adamantly. "Even if he didn't do anything with her, he still should have  _told_  you. It's just like you said. You told him about Sirius, so it's only fair. I mean, your life is literally in his hands, so you  _need_  to be able to  _trust_  him."

"But you don't think he actually  _did_  anything, do you?" Hermione bit her lip. She knew in her heart that Severus hadn't touched the girl, and yet that lingering jealous suspicion made her anxious.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "No," she said obviously. "It's Snape." She said it with so much conviction that Hermione had to smile. "But he still should have told you about it. He owes you that much after all you've been through for  _him._  Gods! Why are men so  _stupid?_  It's as if he's completely disregarding your feelings and pushing you to the perimeter as if it didn't concern you!"

She had a point, Hermione admitted to herself. It wasn't fair for him to continue brushing her off that way. If it wasn't directly disrespectful, it at least meant that she was not showing enough respect for herself. After all, what self-respecting woman would stay in a relationship with a man who constantly dismissed her feelings as unimportant? Hermione groaned. "What can I do, Ginny? It's my own damn fault for falling in love with that selfish bastard. I'm not going to change him. But I can't change the way I feel about him either."

"Whatever you do, don't just go and forgive him right away. Sometimes you have to punish a man before he'll realize his mistake."

"Gods, I hate these games! Why does it all have to be so  _difficult?_ "

"That's the way of the world, love." Ginny reached over to pat the other girl comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Gods. I'm just… I don't know Ginny. I'm not  _angry._  I'm just… so  _hurt_ , you know? I mean, I guess it was silly of me to imagine that we were equals somehow. He has  _all_  the power. I literally  _belong_  to him; mind, body, soul."

"I don't know, Hermione. I think you have more power over the old git than you think." Ginny smirked at the other girl. "Never underestimate the power a woman has over her man."

Hermione groaned. Severus wasn't  _her man_ , but how could she explain that to Ginny? Severus Snape was desperately in love with a ghost and she, Hermione Granger, invisible know-it-all, bushy-haired Brains of the Golden Trio, had no real claim to his loyalty. No; she was the one with the most to lose, here. And so, she was bound to be the one who was hurt the most as well, but understanding that did not keep the wound from throbbing.

" _Gods!_ " Ginny shouted to the ceiling as she stretched back out across Hermione's bed. "It makes me want to punch his face in! He doesn't deserve you, you know. The man's a right bastard and he relishes that fact. And yet some perverse twist of fate stuck you with him. But is he grateful for that ridiculously unlikely bit of luck? Of course not! No, he continues on being the giant walking bat arse that he is, completely oblivious to your feelings, or else uncaring, and reaping the benefits like he's entitled to them."

Hermione snorted at her friend's description of Severus. "Do you know that he actually used Legilimency on me when I told him about Sirius? He relived the whole encounter through my mind! And then he had the gall to command me not to see or touch Sirius ever again!" Of course, he had retracted that particular order, but that wasn't the point.

"Are you kidding?! What an arse!"

"Yeah and then when he was telling me about Parkinson, he said 'I don't go running to you with stories about my Slytherins.' As if they come first! Which is exactly what Pansy and her posse told me when I ran into them!"

"Are you bloody kidding me!? That selfish stupid git! You should demand that he let you see his memory of that night. It's only fair."

"Oh come on, Ginny, he's a Master Occlumens. He could show me anything he wanted me to see. And besides…" she hesitated as a sudden surge of emotion choked her. "I never would have done that to him." Tears were creeping into Hermione's voice. "If our positions had been reversed and he had come to  _me_  the way I came to him about Sirius, I never  _never_  would have broken into his mind that way! He had no right!" A single tear broke free and slipped across her cheek.

"No," Ginny said, sitting up to wrap an arm around her friend, "he didn't."

* * *

Severus hesitated a moment before bursting through the door. He had not spoken to Hermione since their confrontation the other night and he was afraid of what she might say. Her accusations had been completely undeserved, but it was wrong of him not to confide in her. It hadn't been deliberate. He honestly hadn't thought that it was important enough to tell her. And after all it wasn't as if they were married. Severus cringed. He was lying to himself. Had he been in her position, he would have wanted to know. Hell, when Sirius had taken advantage of her, he had practically attacked her with rage. Of course, to be fair, what Sirius had done was far worse than Miss Parkinson's pathetic attempt at seduction. Severus reached for the doorknob as he reached the conclusion he had been drawn back to in every argument with himself since their fight: he ought to apologize to the girl.

As he swept into the room, it was immediately apparent that Hermione was absent. He frowned at that. It was three minutes past the start of the lesson and she was typically early to every class. "It seems Miss Granger has not deigned to present herself punctually this evening," he said. "Am I to assume that one of you carries some written excuse of illness or tragic accident from the little know-it-all?" Anger was beginning to edge into his voice. He had worked himself up to an apology and she hadn't even bothered to show up to the lesson.

The three Gryffindors shook their heads warily. "We haven't seen her," Miss Weasley told him.

"We even checked the library," Potter agreed.

Severus scowled down at them, but even their simultaneous withdrawal from him did not assuage his temper. Ripping his wand from his sleeve, he removed the Disillusionment spell from his ring in one swift motion and engraved a message on its golden surface.  _Where are you?_  It read. And then he waited. And as he paced angrily back and forth across the front of the room, the four present students began to fiddle nervously, exchanging worried glances.

His own impatience grew to worry soon enough as well. She hadn't responded. Perhaps she had not noticed the message.  _Shall I Summon you?_  he asked.  _No response._  Severus was pacing anxiously as the minutes ticked by, and there was no sign of her. "None of you have seen her?" he asked. They shook their heads. "And you checked her bedroom?" Miss Weasley nodded.

An inexplicable surge of fear swept through him at that thought. He was powerless to contact her. She could be anywhere. She could be hurt. Something might have happened, and he wouldn't know.  _Why won't she just respond?!_  But it soon became clear that Hermione was never going to respond, and Severus was at a loss about what to do. "She hasn't been wandering off, has she?" he asked, the worry creeping into his voice. He turned to his godson. "You haven't seen her either, Draco?" If any of his Slytherins had touched the girl, Draco Malfoy would know it. But the arrogant blond gave Severus a strange look and shook his head.

 _Answer me or I'll Summon you_ , he told her. It was almost too long a message for the little ring, but Hermione Granger had good reading eyes and would certainly be able to read the tiny print. That thought gave him a little hope for a moment, and then caused his fears to weigh on his chest when she still did not respond. He swallowed the knot of fear tightening in his throat at the thought that his messages could be delaying her rescue and brought the tip of his wand to the inside of his forearm.

In an instant the girl was collapsing in a heap in front of him with a muffled gasp. She met his eyes and he watched fear turn to defiance in the time it took him to assess that she had not been in any danger at all. And rage began to swirl inside of him, stirring the tumult of emotions that he had been feeling of late and directing them at the defiant figure at his feet. "You are late," he told her in a deep growl, his every muscle tensed with anger.

She only lifted her little chin and responded coolly; "I know."

* * *

The lesson was a flurry of hellfire. Hermione did not think his anger was justified. If anything, he should be apologizing to her for his recent behavior. She owed him  _nothing_ , and he needed to remember that. And being late certainly did not warrant 25 points from Gryffindor and the foulest mood she'd seen from Severus since the incident with Sirius.

But the moment the lesson was over, Hermione had made a hasty retreat before their professor could call her back and interrogate her some more. In fact, she was so determined to get away that she arrived back at the Common Room a good ten minutes before the rest of her friends. When they finally stepped through the Portrait Hole, she had already written three inches of her latest Transfiguration essay.

"Wow," was all Ginny could say. "I can't remember when I've ever seen Snape so angry."

"I can think of a time or two," Harry murmured glumly. "What was all that about, Hermione?"

"We know what it was about!" Ron interjected before Hermione had a chance to answer.

"Oh shut it, Ron! You don't know the half of it!" his sister snapped.

"Don't be stupid, Gin! You heard what he said!" Ron hissed.

Hermione frowned in confusion. "What who said?"

"Don't worry about it. Ron was misinformed," the other girl assured her.

"Blood hell, Ginny! Not you too!" Ron was disgusted.

"What about me?" Ginny returned.

"You're all in love with Snape of a sudden and don't want to listen to the bloody evidence!"

"I am  _not…"_ Ginny began, but Hermione cut her off.

"Will someone tell me  _what_  is going on?!" she shouted a bit too loudly. A few heads turned toward the little group and they fell silent for a moment.

"Alright," Harry murmured quietly, "but let's move. Too many ears." The others agreed and followed the Chosen One to his four-poster where they all settled down before closing the curtains around them.

"So…?" Hermione prompted.

"So," Harry repeated with a sigh, "it was Malfoy. After you and Snape ran out of the room he told us all that he knew why you were angry. He said it was because you were jealous." He hesitated. "Apparently, Pansy Parkinson has been telling everyone and their uncle that…" he bit his lip, but only paused for a brief moment before cutting to the chase, "that Snape tried to seduce her."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"It's rubbish, of course," Ginny reassured her anxiously.

"Bollocks!" said her brother. "I say maybe old Snape's decided he likes sleeping with his students and maybe he should try it with one he likes a bit better."

"Ron!" Harry and Ginny hissed at once. The comment hit hard, however unfounded it may have been.

"She's only spreading rumors," Ginny murmured gently, placing a comforting hand on the other girl's shoulder. "She's probably angry that Snape rejected her."

"More like  _he's_  angry that  _she_  rejected  _him!_ " Ron bit back.

"Shut it, Ron!" Ginny shouted. "Hermione, you know that's not true. Besides, why would Snape seduce Pansy in his own office?" She gave Hermione a pointed look.

"Who said anything about his office?" Ron demanded. "It coulda been anywhere!"

"You're right, Gin," Hermione said at last. "She's probably making it up to get back at Severus and make me jealous."

The boys suddenly had twin expressions of revulsion. "Severus?" Ron hissed in disgust.

Hermione felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "Yes, Ronald. That's his  _name_."

The boys shared a look at that, but Ginny turned her attention away from them. "Anyway, she's a stupid whore and we're going to repay her for this someday. Maybe we'll tell everyone she got drunk and made out with Filch. Would you like that?"

Hermione's laugh was twisted by a shiver of disgust. "It doesn't matter," she sighed. "I just hope this rumor doesn't spread too far."

"Small chance of that," Harry told her apologetically.

"I can't believe the lot of you," Ron told them. "You have proof right in front of you and you still don't believe it. Soon you're all going to find out how wrong you are about that greasy git."

"Ginny," Harry began calmly, "why don't you take Ron for a little walk?" The young lovers shared a look before Ginny nodded and reached for her brother's hand.

"Let go of me!" Ron protested. But Ginny was having none of that and soon Hermione and Harry were all alone.

"Hermione," her friend began, "you know I'm the last person who would ever take Snape's side, but I agree with Gin in this case. He doesn't want Parkinson. Why would he when he's got you?" He smiled awkwardly at Hermione and she smiled back as sudden tears began to sting her eyes. Then Harry's brow furrowed in thought. "He was worried you know. When you didn't show up. He kept asking if we had seen you. And he even asked Malfoy. I… I could tell he was worried about you. And it wasn't until after you appeared that he got angry."

"Really?" Hermione whispered; her relief painful in her chest.

Harry nodded. "I think…" he hesitated. "It's like he's weirdly protective of you." The dark-haired boy caught her eye and Hermione could see the conflicting emotions behind his calm façade. But his words meant more than she could say. "I didn't want to believe it," he admitted, "probably because Snape is such an awful bastard and I still don't know if we can trust him. But I've never seen him like he was today at the lesson. It was crazy, Hermione, I think he was actually  _afraid._ " The green-eyed boy seemed to marvel at this realization and the astounding implications as Hermione watched.

"Afraid?" she repeated, prompting him for more information.

"Yeah," was all he could say, but he looked up at her with such comprehension that she knew he had finally realized the strange truth that Professor Snape was not pure evil as the entire school seemed to believe. "Hermione," he said hesitantly, meeting her eye, "I think… I think he  _cares_  about you." Even as he said it, he seemed perplexed by the very concept, but Hermione could not hold back a smile.

"You think so?" she asked him, relief flooding her senses and a palpable joy filling the cavity of her chest.

"Yeah," he said again, marveling at the word. "Yeah, I do."


	36. Chapter 36

"So what brings you here, Severus? I am certain it is not my pleasant company you seek." Lucius leaned back in his regal armchair and took a sip of brandy. A fire was beating waves of heat toward them from the giant hearth and all manner of ward and secrecy had long been established.

"That's for a certainty, my friend," Severus replied. "You have less cheer than a dementor at present."

The blond man sighed. "And for good reason. I've scarcely spoken with Narcissa for weeks. It is beginning to seem less and less likely that she will ever come to terms with our new situation."

"Well, it is only temporary after all." There was a long, heavy pause in which neither man mentioned the uncertainty of that statement. After all, if the dark lord won the war, their circumstances could very well be permanent. But then, that was exactly the train of thought that Severus was trying to push on his old friend.

"You haven't come to talk about Narcissa; of that I'm sure. Speak your mind Severus, or I'll grow impatient with you." Lucius most certainly was not himself to be so rude. His eyes were bloodshot and there were bags beneath them. Apparently the glory of having the dark lord as a personal guest had evaporated rather quickly, leaving only fear and anxiety in its wake.

"Actually I wanted to ask you about Draco," the professor said. "He's been acting rather strangely of late and I wondered if perhaps you had noticed anything peculiar."

From Lucius's frown of concern and confusion, Severus surmised that the other man had not noticed anything out of the ordinary. "I haven't heard much from him at all if truth be told."

"Hmmm." Severus took a sip of brandy. "Do you usually hear from him with some frequency?"

Lucius nodded absentmindedly. "He enjoys regaling me with tales of his enemies' misfortunes and his own excellent academic successes."

Severus suppressed a smirk. That sounded about right. "He has seemed rather sullen. And I can't imagine what could be the cause."

"I have no idea," Lucius admitted in a weary voice. It seems we all have too much to worry about these days." He looked over at his dark-haired friend. "What about you, Severus? Those worry lines aren't all for my son, are they?"

Severus allowed himself a deep sigh and turned toward the other man. "It is as you say, Lucius. We all have our worries."

"Come now, Severus. We are friends, here. Must you continue with your vague political responses?"

The sullen professor had to smirk a bit at that. Lucius always had known him better than anyone else. "I'm sure you can't imagine."

"It's the girl." The guess was offered without any hesitance and it took Severus momentarily off guard. He nodded and Lucius laughed. "Of course it is. And what, pray tell, has happened to you this time? A lovers' quarrel is it?"

Severus tensed at the implications of his words. "I would hardly call us 'lovers.'"

"Oh, save your caution for your enemies, Severus. We both know she isn't just your slave. And I imagine that it isn't something  _she's_  done wrong that has you so upset. In fact, I'd wager that it is  _you_  who has somehow angered your partner and therefore learned the fire of a woman's wrath. Tsk tsk, Severus, I have twenty years on you in this game. You cannot fool me."

Severus slumped with a sigh of resignation. "I just… with Albus or… anyone else… I know exactly what will anger them. But… women require a completely different strategy and I haven't learned it yet."

"Oh there you go comparing life to chess again. Just tell me what you did and be done with it."

The dark wizard looked up at his friend guiltily. "Well…" he wasn't sure where to start. "I made the mistake of not confiding in Hermione when a certain student of mine made sexual advances toward me. But in my defense, I honestly thought nothing of the girl's poor attempt at seduction. It wasn't as if I had any interest in her."

"Tsk tsk," Lucius began. "Women are jealous creatures, Severus. Especially when they are insecure. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I feel certain that you have not given her any solid reason to have faith in your loyalty to her." He had a point and Severus cringed at the truth of it. Honestly, he didn't know what they really were or where the boundaries and lines and labels were. It was near impossible to navigate the harsh terrain without a map of some sort. "But I am hearing something even more interesting behind the words you say and that is that a female student of yours offered you sexual favors and you  _turned her down._  Well, that is quite fascinating, as you have no marriage bonds keeping you faithful to the Granger girl. Do you have a practiced excuse for that as well?"

Severus scowled at his old friend. "She is my student. And most certainly  _not_  my type."

"Ah, and what  _is_  your type, Severus? Bushy-haired Gryffindors with a passion for books? That does seem to be the trend."

"Alright, Lucius, I have already admitted to caring for the girl. And I've confided our latest bit of drama with you. Must you harass me further? My sole concern at present is putting the whole mess to rights."

"Well," the aristocrat began, thoughtfully, "take it from a man who is completely incapable of giving his angry wife what she demands; if you have it in your power to make her happy again, even if that means a blow to your pride, she will be worth it in the end."

* * *

The Saturday sun was obscured by the foreboding storm clouds that encroached upon the castle like uninvited guests, beckoned by All Hallows' Eve. Hermione watched the blackening sky with a wary eye, wondering if it was an omen or just an eerie coincidence. The castle was abuzz with excitement, but here in Hermione's dormitory there was only heavy silence.

The door opened and a moment later Ginny Weasley stood beside her, staring out at the ominous storm. "Merlin," she murmured in good humor, "even the sky is dressed up this year."

Hermione's lip quirked up as a bit of her worry was siphoned away by Ginny's happy mood. This Halloween was an even grander occasion than it had been any other year, because this year Professor Slughorn was hosting a masquerade. It was the talk of the school, though only a select group of older students had been invited. Yet the excitement of the party was contagious and the entire castle was suddenly full of various colorful costumes. Already a group of older Slytherins had lost 50 points for terrifying a Hufflepuff first year, someone had jinxed Neville Longbottom's mask to stick indefinitely to his face, Peeves had somehow managed to dye Filch's face green which made him look eerily reminiscent of a witch from a muggle children's tale, and there were still hours of daylight before the festivities even officially began.

"Is your costume finished?" Ginny asked the other girl.

Hermione nodded. "I'm still not sure I'll have the nerve to wear it, though."

"Oh, come on!" teased the pretty redhead. "Compared to mine, yours is practically modest."

Hermione grinned mischievously at her friend. "Unless there's a light behind me." The Grecian gown Hermione had designed for her impersonation of Nike seemed opaque to the casual observer. But anyone who took a second glance at its unassuming folds would see that the outline of her body was entirely visible beneath the thin layer of cream was secretly hoping that a certain angry professor might take notice.

Ginny's costume was a ballerina's rendition of a phoenix, complete with tutu and corseted bodice. Lengths of red satin hung beneath her arms, attaching at the wrist, and her mask was an extravagant bird of crimson and gold (a blatant display of Gryffindor pride). And anywhere the girl could show a patch of skin, she did so shamelessly. After all, Halloween was an opportunity to break dress code and flaunt one's assets for the world to see.

Or so Ginny Weasley seemed to believe, and she was not alone. Parvati and Lavender had also designed rather scandalous costumes and Hermione was afraid to even imagine how Pansy Parkinson might be dressed. Beside them, she would blend into the wall and no one would notice that beneath the modest gown she wore nothing else at all. No one, that is, except Severus Snape. At least… that was her plan.

* * *

Severus stared down at his musty, old costume. It had been years since the castle had a proper Halloween party, and Severus had once enjoyed the occasion. Once a year he was able to disguise his true identity and enjoy the festivities as any other man. He had taken delight in shaming the other dancers only to reveal at the end of the night that it was the dreaded Potions Master who commanded the dance floor with such grace. The sight of their horrified faces never ceased to amuse him and that thought alone could sustain him for months afterward.

But this year would be different.  _She_  would be there, and Severus was busy contemplating what sorts of tricks he could play on the girl before she realized who he was. A wicked grin spread across his face as he freshened the old costume with a few quick spells and made some adjustments to the design. There were rumors that a vampire had been invited to the masque, but Severus knew the man would not dress as the young dunderheads expected him to. It would be the perfect disguise.

The entire faculty had been extended invitations to the grand affair, but a portion of them planned to attend the feast in the Great Hall in support of the large number of students who would not be able to join their friends at Horace's party. Albus himself was to remain, and though Severus was sure a number of them planned to come afterwards, the Headmaster likely would not join them.  _All the better._  The old man would probably only ruin his fun.

* * *

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. Was it too obviously transparent? Should she make the fabric thicker? She studied the subtle lines of her body beneath the gown and reminded herself that the Halloween party was likely to have dimmer lighting than her bathroom. But it still seemed so daring to step out into the castle so scandalously dressed.  _No one else will notice,_  she reminded herself. But it was hard to believe at the present moment.

Ginny popped her head in for a peek and whistled approvingly. "Merlin, Hermione! You look fantastic!"

Hermione spun around to face her. "Is it too obvious?" She knew the worry was written plainly across her face and Ginny smiled reassuringly at her.

"You worry too much. It's very subtle," she assured her. "If it were any less obvious, Snape himself wouldn't be able to tell."

"You think?"

Ginny nodded. "You need a mask, though. It's a  _masqu_ erade."

"Of course!" Hermione had almost forgotten. Nike had wings, but she didn't want to look so much like an angel, so she had decided to put wings on the mask instead. The elegant white mask curved over her nose and the impression of feathers reached away from the center, framing her eyes.

"Perfect," Ginny murmured, excitement edging into her voice.

"Can you help me do my hair?" Hermione asked.

The other girl shook her head. "Leave it as it is," she said. "You look like a goddess."

Hermione beamed at the pretty redhead in the reflection. "That  _was_  my intent."

As the two girls made their way down the stairs to the Common Room, the three waiting boys stood up to greet them with expressions of awe upon their faces. Ginny ran immediately to Harry who kissed her and appraised her with a mouthful of compliments while Neville looked on and blushed awkwardly. Ron, however, had eyes only for her, and Hermione suddenly felt exposed before him as his eyes swept down her figure.

"Wow, Hermione," he said, "you look amazing!"

"Thanks, Ron," she replied, fighting the urge to cover herself with her hands.  _It's only for a little while._

Luna met them a corridor away from the party to join up with Harry as his date. She was dressed in some poofy ensemble with striped stockings of purple and red and a twisted curving unicorn-style horn atop her head.

"Er… what are you dressed as, Luna?" Harry asked.

"A Crumple-horned Snorkack of course," she replied. "I've never seen one personally, but I know enough about them from my father. He's seen one himself, you know."

"Has he?" Harry replied dully. "Well you look… er… lovely."

"Thank you, Harry," Luna said dreamily. "That's very nice of you to say."

There was a line of students pushing their way through the door to get into the masquerade, and when it was their turn to enter, Ron put a hand on the small of Hermione's back. It made her skin itch and she pulled away from him the moment they had passed through the door. A quick scan of the room told her that Severus was not yet there. Only then did she allow herself to take in the surroundings and appreciate the extravagance of the affair.

Horace Slughorn was a man of luxurious tastes, to be sure. Ribbons, curtains, and lengths of flimsy fabric draped from the ceiling at random to give the air a bit of mystery. Tables covered in dark red cloth lined the walls and dotted the outskirts of the dance floor, and each was lit with candlelight that flickered through the eerie visages of skulls and Jack-o-lanterns. More candles hung throughout the room, suspended in midair. They were no different than the candles hanging in the Great Hall, but in this dim atmosphere they reminded Hermione of another time in another place where a thousand glowing candles surrounded her on all sides, reflected in the blinking surfaces of a hundred mirrors. And her heart began to pound irrationally at the memory.

But there was no stone altar in the middle of the dance floor and the gentle waltz of the couples clinging to one another was a striking contrast to the couplings of the Death Eaters and their victims. She took a steadying breath and felt some of her anxiety melt away. Then she turned her body to face the door so that she would see Severus the moment he arrived.

Ron was looking at her sheepishly. "Hermione," he began in a soft voice, "I know we've been a little on the outs lately, but you know it's only because I care about you."  _Oh gods. What do I say to that?_  "It's just… it's not supposed to be you and Snape. It's supposed to be you and me and Harry. Like old times."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione began, but she was interrupted by a very excited Ginny Weasley.

"Did you see Parkinson's costume?" she whispered happily. "It's ghastly!" Hermione looked up in time to see the girl in question strutting through the room on the arm of some stupid-looking Slytherin and wearing some sort of slutty pink and black lingerie with cat ears and a tail.

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Pathetic."

Suddenly Parvati and Lavender were there beside them and Lavender leaned over to join in the Pansy-bashing. "Have you heard about her and Snape? Apparently she went to him for help with an assignment and he offered her a whole lot more…" She winked hideously at them and Hermione felt her temper rising.

"That's not true, really," came Luna's voice from out of nowhere, and she was suddenly standing right between Ron and Hermione. "You've got it switched around is all." The entire group was staring down at Luna in incredulous confusion.

"What?" Lavender bit out in a mocking tone.

"It's true," the little blonde told the other girl. "Pansy asked Professor Snape, really. Only he wasn't interested. He doesn't love her, you see." In that moment, Hermione could have kissed the pretty Ravenclaw. She didn't know  _how_  Luna had come by that information (if she hadn't just known it somehow), but her timing was impeccable.

"Are you kidding me?!" Lavender hissed. She and Parvati exchanged a wicked smirk and then Lavender began to laugh. "Oh that is  _so_  much better! Come on, we have  _got_  to tell Padma!"  _Yes. Go. Spread the news. I knew those giggling gossips had to be good for something._

Their little group dispersed as the other Gryffindor girls ran off to share the story with anyone who would listen, Harry went off to get Ginny some punch, and Neville asked Luna to dance. Hermione had a horrible feeling that Ron was about to ask her to as well and began searching desperately for some excuse.

"Hey look," Ginny murmured excitedly, pointing toward the entrance. "A vampire. Do you suppose that's the  _real_ vampire or a fake one?"

Hermione glanced at the door. The man in question was a handsomely dressed Victorian gentleman all in black with silver detailing. A black velvet cloak covered his forehead and cast shadows across his face as its deep, heavy folds swept the floor. His half-mask was pale off-white and ornate as far as she could tell through the shadows of his hood. And below it his lips were parted in an evil grin, revealing razor fangs an inch longer than incisors.

Hermione smiled. His posture, his movement, the angles of his body, the elegant grace with which he commanded attention, even the way his tight buttoned sleeves flared slightly at the wrist to cover part of his hand told Hermione who he truly was. "No, Ginny," she smirked, "he's not a vampire."

* * *

Severus's eyes swept the dim room. His vision was impaired by the itching, irritating mask, but he knew he would not be able to remove it for a long time. Already sweat was coating the surface of his skin wherever the damned thing touched, but he was determined to ignore it.  _Where is she?_  It took him a moment, but he finally found Hermione standing beside a bright red be-feathered Weasley girl. Her simple white mask did not hide her identity and that wild mane of curls was a veritable beacon to anyone looking for the little know-it-all, as Severus was.

She was watching him, smiling, he thought, in a rather seductive way. But if she did not know who he was, was she then attempting to enchant a complete stranger?  _No. She would not sink so low._  They had not yet had a chance to make peace with one another, and for all Severus knew she could be plotting against him. But that was a worry for another time. At the moment, he could only stare transfixed at the beautiful woman watching him from across the room.

Her soft, full lips were tilted in a devious smile and her hair was down and wild. The pale, soft folds of her gown were an elegant contrast to the cheap, tacky displays the other girls had put together. And a candle somewhere behind her gave her hair the ethereal illusion of a halo.

She looked like the angel from his dreams.

And she was suddenly walking towards him. Severus's breath caught in his chest and he glanced nervously around to notice several other pairs of eyes watching him. Apparently his arrival had not gone unnoted, but he could see from their curious expressions that they did not recognize him.

His gaze returned to her approaching form and he was startled to see the light of several candles breaking through the translucent material of her gown. The curves of her body were outlined by light like a goddess stepping out of the heavens. She might as well have been naked. But before Severus's body could react to that thought, he stepped toward her, meeting her in the middle with an outstretched hand; a gesture of invitation onto the dance floor which she readily accepted.  _Does she know me?_

Another waltz began to play, to his relief. If anyone other than Horace Slughorn had planned this grand affair, the music would have been an entirely different sort. As it was, he soon had Hermione spinning and gliding with him across the floor like a vision from a dream. And though it was immediately obvious that she had never danced a day in her life, he knew how to lead and she knew how to learn. He smirked when he saw that many of the onlookers were exclusively watching  _them_ , but Hermione's eyes never left his face (except a time or two to check her clumsy feet).

There was no longer a doubt in his mind that she knew who he was. But that was amazing to him. Albus himself had had a hard time recognizing him the first time he'd worn this disguise. But Hermione Granger had spotted him immediately and come to him without a moment's hesitation.  _Gods_  how he wanted to kiss her.

When the song ended, he offered her his arm and led her from the floor.

* * *

It felt marvelous to be beside him for all the world to see. Hermione practically clung to Severus's arm as they headed toward the punchbowl at the far end of the room. She was surprised to see the level of interest their dance had drawn, as several people were blatantly staring at them. Lavender and Parvati looked jealous, Harry and Ron were clearly confused, but Ginny winked knowingly at her and Malfoy seemed alarmed.

Severus said not a word as he poured a cup of punch for her and Hermione merely stared into his masked face with a secret smile meant only for him. Even if no one knew who he was, it was so liberating to be with him this way. It was almost as if there was nothing shameful about their relationship. And she so wanted to believe that was true.

Hermione glanced around in time to see Ginny whispering in her brother's ear as a look of comprehension dawned behind his plastic mask and Lavender Brown suddenly appeared at his side. She leaned over to him, drawing his attention, and as they stood and headed toward the dance floor, Lavender sent Hermione a triumphant look.  _Does she honestly think that will upset me?_  And then Severus was leading her away with a gentle hand on her elbow.

He led her toward the outer wall where long black curtains hung at regular intervals all along its length, concealing shallow alcoves with floor-length windows that would have let in too much moonlight. Once they were ensconced within one of these narrow nooks—and there was no doubt half the room had seen them slip into it—Severus withdrew his wand and cast a  _Muffliato_. "Hermione," he murmured softly, "you little temptress, are you punishing me?"

She laughed softly. "Would I be so cruel as that?"

His hand came up to cup her face and Hermione sighed desperately at his touch. It had been so long since he had caressed her this way. "I am not the only one who can see through that gown, you know."

Hermione could feel herself blushing. "I know."

"Do you mean to tease them too?" His voice was a growl.

"Am I teasing you?"

"That depends." His lips spread in a mischievous smirk. "While it is certain that you are arousing me, you are only teasing if you do not plan to relieve that arousal as well."

Hermione's eyes grew wide and her lips parted as he stepped toward her, pushing her against the wall and leaning down to capture her mouth as his hands met her waist. He growled a long deep moan as their lips brushed against each other and Hermione whimpered as a hand came up to cup her breast. His tongue begged entrance and Hermione obliged him, rubbing her own tongue against his as his mouth slanted over hers again and again. Soon, his body was pressed against hers, moving restlessly as they panted against each other's lips.

Hermione's hand slipped down to grasp the prominent bulge between his legs and he groaned in agonized bliss. He broke away from her mouth to kiss her neck and she could feel the sharp tips of his fangs against the tender skin. "Oh, Hermione," he moaned, sliding a hand up her bare thigh and finding nothing beneath her gown. In a heartbeat his hand was between her legs, teasing her with deft fingers until she was whimpering against him.

Hermione pushed him away and slowly slipped down the length of his body until she was on her knees before him. Even behind the mask, she could see hunger in his eyes as he waited, frozen to the spot. She began to undo the buttons of his trousers, but he stopped her with a hand. "No," he told her, "not here." She only blinked up at him in confusion. "I want to make love to you, Hermione."  _Oh gods._ "Will you meet me in my chambers?"

"Yes," she replied in a husky voice. "With pleasure."

"Go ahead, then. I require a moment to compose myself. Besides, my exit will be somewhat more conspicuous and it would be best if you were already long gone." She nodded excitedly up at him and Severus helped her to her feet. She turned to go, but he pulled her back and pressed his lips to hers once more.

"Don't make me wait," she whispered. And with that she stepped through the curtains and made a circuit of the room to lose any lingering eyes and to tell Ginny where she would be.

"Yeah, girl!" Ginny shouted. Someone had spiked the punchbowl and Ginny had clearly taken advantage of that. "Go get that makeup sex!" Luckily the noise in the room had elevated and the dancing had grown wild, so no one so much as noticed the pretty redhead's shout.

As Hermione slipped away, she caught sight of Ron and Lavender making out in a corner and rolled her eyes.  _Well, one less problem to worry about_ , she thought. Then she gleefully returned to the task at hand. There were voices farther down the hall. They were so faint, Hermione almost didn't notice them. But the corridor was empty and quiet and the sound of muffled murmurs drifted easily to her ears.

As she passed an archway leading to a balcony, Hermione paused, catching sight of blonde hair glowing in the moonlight. From the look of it, Draco Malfoy and Luna Lovegood were leaning against the railing, looking out on the castle grounds. Malfoy's mask dangled from his hand and his voice was weary when he spoke. "But, what if you don't know what you want?"

"Most people don't, I think," came Luna's reply, "but when I don't know what to do I put my choices in a hat and pick one."

Malfoy snorted. "You put it down to chance? God does not play with dice."

"No, that's not it. If I don't like the one I pick, I throw it away. Eventually there's only one that's left, you see. And that's the one you wanted all along."

Hermione's heart was hammering in her chest. What was Malfoy so unsure about and why the  _hell_  was he listening to Luna Lovegood's advice?

"But say…" Malfoy began again, "say one person wants you to do one thing and another… wants you to do another… well… how do you know which to do?"

"Oh, that's easy," Luna told him. "I just do the one that's right." There was a long pause and then Malfoy turned to look at the girl beside him. Hermione felt suddenly uncomfortable, as if she'd seen too much, and slipped away before either of the pale blondes caught her watching them.

_What the bloody hell was that?!_

* * *

Having calmed the fire in his loins, Severus stepped out of the curtained alcove and straight into madness. Horace's party had quickly gotten away from him and he doubted very much that the old Potions Professor had ever heard most of the music that was playing now. He stifled the urge to cover his ears as he made his way through the boisterous crowd. Not only had the music gotten louder, but the students themselves seemed to have turned up the volume. The result was a cacophony of monstrous proportions.

Trying his best to ignore the ruckus, Severus shoved his way through the excited crowd to the door that led to freedom. Outside, a cool draft fell across his face, heightening his desire to remove the mask. But soon enough he would be able to remove that and much more, he thought. A smirk twisted his lips as he remembered the way Hermione had whimpered against his mouth. He hadn't even had to apologize for her to forgive him. Funny, but that made him want to apologize even more. It made him want to kneel before her and promise her the world.

He closed his eyes as he walked, remembering the way the soft light had framed her body like a golden goddess of myth; the sexy little smile on her face as she made her way toward him.  _Me. She wanted me._ The thought hit him in a strange light. She wanted him; all of him. So, why should he hold back from her? If he was lucky enough to have someone who wanted every bit of him, why shouldn't he give her everything? The thought had him practically walking on air as he approached the door to his bedchamber. But as he raised his wand to open the portrait door a searing pain lashed his left arm and he sucked a breath in pain.

 _Fuck!_ Severus flung open the door and ran straight into his bedroom, Summoning his Death Eater mask and cloak as he did. It was then he caught sight of Hermione, stretched across his bed, the translucent layers of her gown falling in seductive curves around her beautiful body. And on her face was an expression of alarm. It sent a shock of pain to his heart and opened a wound of gushing anger toward the dark lord for taking this from him.

"I have been Summoned," he told her, though it was apparent she had surmised as much. "I have to go. A Summons on Halloween cannot be a good sign. I am certain the dark lord does not wish to discuss strategy with us tonight. It would be better for you to wait in your dormitory and I will advise you of my return."

But the stubborn girl shook her head and slipped off the bed to stand before him. "I will wait here," she told him, reaching up and cupping his face in her hands. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her slowly and show her the depth of his affection in his large, empty bed. But his duty was to Albus and the dark lord.  _That comes first,_  he reminded himself. "Be careful," she told him, reaching up on tiptoes to press her lips to his. He savored the feel of her a moment longer, then slipped through the door that led to the cave and headed off to meet the dark lord once again.


	37. Chapter 37

Death. Fear. Screaming and running. Glass breaking, fire spreading, darkness. And through it all the shrill, wicked laughter of the dark lord. At first, the party guests had believed it nothing more than a Halloween prank. They had laughed and told the Minister that he couldn't fool them. And all he could do was stand there in shock as his celebration became one massive explosion of carnage and illusion became true horror. The Death Eaters were no mere men in masks, this night. And soon even the party decorations were joining in the fight, reanimated by the cruel perversion of Lord Voldemort's mind. It was chaos.

Flashes of green lit the hall like poison lightning, but Severus knew that was the least of it. All Hallows' Eve forever inspired creativity, and the Death Eaters did not channel that inspiration into costumes and ugly Jack-o'-lanterns. He had to tell himself that as he struck out with painless Killing Curses, knowing that no one would be permitted to leave this masquerade and thanking Merlin that it was not Hogwarts they had attacked. Soon, the house would burn, and only those who could fly would be able to flee. His murder was mercy, he told himself, shaking away treacherous thoughts of  _her._   _This is who I am_ , he thought.  _And now she will finally see._

The dark lord had been planning this little surprise for weeks, coordinating spies and placing the Imperius Curse on strategic victims. Their own Anti-Disapparition wards had been secured long before the Death Eaters arrived and anyone foolish enough to attempt escape through the gardens around the mansion would find themselves writhing on the ground in excruciating pain. It was a bloodbath. The central target was the Minister of Magic, of course, but his Halloween celebration had been populated by the Ministry's V.I.P. The Wizarding world was going to have a lot on its hands come the morning.

As the ballroom erupted with brutal warfare, several of his brothers slipped into the halls to seek any hiders like some terrible Halloween game. Severus followed, preferring the empty halls of the mansion to the slaughter in the Minister's ballroom. Here, it would be easier to excuse himself from murder.

Through elaborate hallways and up twisting spiral stairs he ran, not stopping to check any of the rooms. If there were people hidden there, he did not want to find them. Fire licked out of open doors along the hallways and Severus could hear the groaning of old wood that would soon collapse. But a sudden panicked scream close at hand caught his ear and he followed it instinctively, his heart pounding terribly with sickening fear. Fear of what he might find.

The screaming was coming from a large chamber at the end of one hall and Severus burst inside only to find one of his brothers cornering a young girl in her own bedroom. The child was not yet ten and had clearly been abed when the hulking man found her. Her embroidered and be-ruffled nightgown spoke of a doting mother and she clutched a battered stuffed bear to her chest like a shield. Severus's breath caught in his throat when he saw that the man was undoing his trousers.  _No! She is just a girl!_  The innocent did not deserve to suffer in that way.

Before his rational mind could prevent him, Severus had Stunned the other Death Eater and the little girl screamed as he crashed to the floor. Then her fright-widened eyes met his through the mask. Cinnamon eyes, he realized. And for a long moment, neither of them moved. He could only stare down at the streams of tears across her cheeks as she stared up in horror at his Death Eater mask. For this small child, the terrors of All Hallow's Eve had just become inescapable reality.

But there were voices down the hall and he could hear footsteps running toward them. There was naught he could do but spare the girl a worse fate at the hands of his brothers. And so he raised his wand, hating himself and wishing there was some other way. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, but she did not look away. And his wand came down, bestowing gentle mercy upon the little innocent. In a breath, she crumpled to the floor and he watched the light leave her eyes. Unseeing, unfeeling cinnamon eyes.  _No._ He wanted to run to her, but held himself back.  _What have I done?_  His brothers were coming.

Severus could hardly breathe as he reanimated the fallen brother and swept from the room. The house was full of screaming and his heart was ripping itself apart inside his chest. But what was done was done and he could not dwell on that now. He was a Death Eater. He  _needed to be_ a Death Eater. It was for the Greater Cause. Wasn't it?

It was not until afterward, as the Dark Mark hung in the sky and the stink of death and fire permeated the air, as the Death Eaters flew off in columns of smoke to regroup at Malfoy Manor for a celebration, that Severus allowed himself to think about  _her._  And the self-loathing fell over him like a shadow, its icy claws scratching at his soul, reminding him that he was not the man she wanted him to be.

For a little while, he had even bought into her little fantasy. Foolishly, he had begun to believe that he could be better; as if, somehow, by magic, his sins could be washed away and his black heart could love as it had so very long ago. But he had been blind to believe that. Love had always been denied him, but he had closed the door on even the remote possibility of one day attaining it when he had joined forces with the dark lord. His soul was tattered from years of selfishness and hate. If she knew the atrocious crimes he had committed, she would turn her cheek as Lily had and banish him from her heart.

He would never have her love. In the shadow of this new understanding, Severus could no longer deny that that had been what he desired. For so long he had deceived himself. It was easy to believe that a devil so black could want the girl for her body. It was logical that a man so lonely would crave the comfort of a woman who cared. But now he knew that his dark heart had wanted nothing less than the love that had been denied him for so long. He couldn't deceive himself anymore. The truth was, that was really all he had ever wanted.

But he could not have it. If he allowed her to believe the best of him, she might one day learn to love him. But he could not lie to her. He would not deceive her as he had deceived himself. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than  _him._  And he could not,  _would not_ , ask it of her, knowing the taint he would be on her soul. How could he allow the girl he loved so much to sacrifice anything more for filth like him?

The wicked celebration stirring Malfoy Manor was too much for him to bear.  _This is where I belong_ , he thought.  _Where the congregation of black hearts sing victories of murder and malice. This is my place._ He studied the chaos around him.  _Filth. I am no better._ And one weary visage caught his eye. Another onlooker sat in tired resignation at the far end of the room, leaning against a wall and pinching the bridge of his nose: Lucius Malfoy.

Severus went to him. "Headache?" he asked his oldest friend.

The blond man nodded wearily. "Not enjoying the festivities, Severus?"

"It has been a long night," he answered vaguely. They shared a look and by some silent agreement left the room together. The quiet comfort of Lucius's study was more to their tastes and a dose of brandy would do them both a world of good. In heavy silence they sipped the pungent liquor, staring into the flames of a familiar hearth. Both understood the implications of their work tonight. The Minister of Magic was dead along with many high-ranking officials. It was a great victory for the dark lord. Yet neither of them was excited. Rather, an aching fatigue seemed to settle upon the cozy room, and still the men said nothing.

They were three heavy doses of brandy into the night before Lucius cut through the haze of buzzing silence with a broken, unfeeling whisper. "Narcissa will be pleased…" he said, though both knew that was not true. Before Severus could form a response, however, Lucius set his glass upon a side-table and limped out of the room. Sighing in resignation, the Slytherin Head turned back to the fire and tipped another trickle of brandy down his throat.

* * *

Hermione was in a state. She had been pacing for hours to no avail.  _Will he ever come back?_  she could not help but wonder. She was drained of tears by the time morning light began to slowly trickle through the vines that hid their little cave; his apparition point.  _He could be dead and I would have no way to know._ But she  _did_  have a way to communicate with the missing man. Her breath caught in her throat as she sent a hurried ' _Are you alright?'_ through the ring.

Minutes passed and there was no answer. Not for the first time, she returned to his bedroom as if hoping that he might have found another way home this time. But he was not there. Surely he would not have gone straight to the headmaster without letting her know he was alright. Surely he would have felt her message against his skin and answered if he possibly could.  _He would have,_  she knew.  _He definitely would have._  After all, their need for communication had been his idea to begin with. And he had been furious with her the one time she didn't answer.

In her drowsy, anguished, sleep-deprived and stress-induced haze, Hermione decided to simply go to him. It made perfect sense, somehow, in her mind. She would find him. She would go to him the way she always did, whether he Summoned her or not. After all, he could be hurt and he might need help and she would find a way to give it to him. The strength of her resolve did not permit an ounce of fear and Hermione never considered the danger to herself as she turned on the spot and thought of Severus.

* * *

He was being dragged down to the ground by an invisible weight as swirling darkness shuffled images of death and pain all around. Green lightning flashed and the thunder rolled over him like an avalanche. Blood seemed to seep down the sides of the sky and cackling laughter pervaded it all. Through the spinning, tumbling pandemonium, he caught a glimpse of white. And a little girl in a nightgown was tripping along the twisting ground, struggling to hold onto her bear as a hundred bloody hands reached toward her, staining her innocence with red. Severus tried to run to her, but his legs were swallowed up by the ground and she seemed ever farther away.

Then she was beside him and Severus saw that she was Hermione. And she screamed at the sight of him. It was his mask. She was afraid of his mask. He tried to tell her that it was only him; that he wouldn't hurt her. But the mask wouldn't come off.  _This is who you are now._ She was screaming and pulling away from him as he raised his wand.  _Mercy. It is only mercy._ He tried to tell her, but she didn't understand. She  _couldn't_  understand.

He was yanked away from her image by a heavy weight that jarred his senses and bit into his flesh. He was being attacked. But lashing out, his eyes flew open only to find that she was suddenly in his lap. "Bloody hell!" And he was awake. In Lucius's study. And she was here. "What are you doing here?" he heard himself ask.

"You're alright!" Hermione's arms wrapped around his neck and she sobbed into his robes as he came back to reality.  _How could she be here?_  His hands went to her waist as the sweet scent of her hair filled his nose. A surge of fear flashed through him when he remembered where he was. If anyone found her here…

"Are you mad!?" he barked. "What could you have been thinking!? Do you know where I am?" He lurched out of his seat in a panic, flinging her to the floor.

Someone could find them here.

Then his heart clenched in a surge of guilt that seemed to pull him away from her. And suddenly it was painful to have her near.

"I was so worried!" she cried, and he saw that tears were pouring down her cheeks.  _Worried? About me?_  But she didn't know.  _Oh gods._ She didn't know.

"You shouldn't have come!" he hissed, meeting her eyes. Her fright-widened cinnamon eyes.

Severus's breath caught as a knife twisted in the cavity of his chest. "Go," he told her breathlessly. "Leave me!" he shouted in a panic. He couldn't bear the sight of her big innocent eyes. " _GO!_ "

She leapt to her feet, compelled to obey, turned on the spot, and was gone.

For a long moment, Severus stared down at the place where Hermione had been. Then something inside of him seemed to collapse and he sank back into the chair, crushed with grief and broken by his own toxic guilt.

He could still feel the warmth of her arms around him. Oh, how he had wanted her comfort. He  _needed_  it. But it was not his and it hurt to have that pressed upon him in his raw and broken state.  _She will never forgive me. She will never hold me like that again._ Her fearful cinnamon eyes were no different than the eyes of the Minister's daughter. But that little girl was gone from this world now,  _because of him_. He could not accept warmth while her body grew cold and he deserved to be as alone as she had been, with no one to hold her and keep her safe.

But Hermione would see that soon. In the morning, everyone would know what they had done this night. Then, she would understand why he could not be with her. Then, she would be glad she hadn't held him. He was soiled and he could not allow his own wickedness to taint her innocence. What has rotten cannot live again, but what lives can begin to rot.  _I will not corrupt her with my guilt._

And so, even as the daylight broke through the thick curtains and the fire calmed to dark embers in the hearth, Severus remained huddled in his chair, unable to move, unable to start a new day as he was plagued by memories of the last.


	38. Chapter 38

The panicked energy of the room was a mere blur around the edges of Severus's consciousness. Distantly, he watched the Order members argue angrily back and forth about what should be done. It was not yet seven a.m. and the world had gone to pieces in the night. But rather than take a deep breath and think rationally on the Headmaster's words, the angry witches and wizards had begun a shouting match, much of which was directed at Severus.

It was nothing he hadn't heard a thousand times before. He was not to be trusted. He knew about this attack and failed to inform them. He was just another Death Eater and they'd be better off if someone went ahead and did him in already.

But this time, Severus couldn't agree more.

Finally their esteemed leader had had enough. "QUIET!" he shouted over the angry ruckus. There was a shocked silence in which each Order member individually had the same realization: this was the first time they'd actually heard Albus Dumbledore raise his voice. And perhaps the ancient wizard never fully showed the world what he was capable of. "This is an urgent matter and it requires immediate action," he continued. "Whatever squabbles the rest of you have, you may address at a later date. At present, we have but one concern. And that is the Ministry of Magic." Tension seemed to leave the room in a breath as they all recognized the truth of the old man's words. When he spoke again, his voice was low, calm, collected, but with no less authority. "Now, Kingsley, you will gather your most trusted aurors, as many as you can, and hold the Ministry for the present. I do not think that Tom will try anything daring this morning. But we must be prepared for an attempt to place one of his followers in the Minister's chair. There will be panic. It is likely that the Wizengamot will be hasty in their decision of whom to appoint in the hopes that they might regain control before another move can be made. But Tom will be prepared for this. He will have a plan.

"Arthur, you should report to the Ministry as usual. Remember that you do not have prior knowledge of these events. But the more eyes and ears we have inside of the Ministry the better our chances are of discovering Tom's plan. Emmeline, we may have use of your connections at the Daily Prophet. Use whatever influence you have to ensure that the inevitable articles in this morning's paper do credit to the true events without propaganda and alert me to any biased material you can beforehand. In times of crisis it is easy to place one's trust in authority. We will have our hands full repairing the damage that the Prophet is bound to do today.

"Elphias, Dedalus, see if your friends in the Wizengamot will listen to reason. It is essential that we postpone any decisions at present. Even an Acting Minister usually finds his way into the official position. Find out whom they are thinking to give that power and report to me. We must be sure that it is someone we can trust."

As each assignment was given, the Order members hastened to obey, and soon the meeting was adjourned. Few members remained with the assignment to make themselves available should anything else be needed. And for now, there was nothing left but to wait. "If the rest of you wouldn't mind," Albus began again, "I need to speak with Severus."

At the mention of his name, Severus broke out of his numb daze and met the Headmaster's chilly blue eyes. The door closed behind Molly Weasley and both men seemed to tense simultaneously. At length, the Headmaster spoke. "Severus," he murmured, and with a wave of his wand a Pensieve appeared before them. "I hope you don't mind."

The words were a mere formality. They both knew exactly what was to be done. But Albus generally preferred to keep a shield of near clinical politeness, as if the use of an everyday phrase could turn the events of the previous evening into a hypothetical scenario. Severus  _loathed_  it.

At least the twinkle was gone from the Headmaster's eyes today. He seemed as tired as a man his age should be, leaning slightly as he stared down at his trusted spy. "I will need some time to study it," he said as Severus withdrew his wand. "And while I do, you ought to sleep."

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus. There will be time to sleep when some measure of peace is restored." Could Albus truly expect him to  _sleep_  at a time like this?

"You have done much, Severus. It would best serve our cause to have you rested when the ill effects of the last several hours begin to manifest."

"They've already…"

"Enough, Severus. You submit to my authority when my demands are unpleasant, but you must remember that I require obedience even when my orders seem trivial."

Shocked and angered by the callousness of the old man's words, Severus gave no response but to withdraw the memory of the night before and let it fall into the swirling bowl.

"Thank you, Severus." Albus seemed almost contrite, but Severus knew the older wizard could rival his other master in the art of manipulation.

With a nod to his superior, Severus swept from the room, suddenly feeling as tired as he should have been hours ago. His body ached and his mind pounded with a hollow throbbing pain where his memories of last night had been. The thoughts were still there. The use of a pensieve did not completely remove them, but only made them fade until they seemed a distant idea of something that may have happened to someone else. Severus dragged his weary body up the stairs and stopped at the first landing; the door to his little makeshift potions lab.

He tried to tell himself that it was his reluctance to climb three more flights of stairs which urged him to open that door. But as he climbed into the bed, somehow he didn't feel so alone. And as he sank into a weary sleep, his hands grasped desperately at the soft sheets, and his nose pressed hungrily into the pillow so that each breath filled him with the scent of the girl he loved. And he could almost allow himself to believe that Hermione was there.

* * *

The noisy chaos of a fading dream throbbed through her wakening mind as she registered the suffocating pressure of a pillow against her face. It was cold. A dull ache behind her eyes told her that she had been crying and one glance around reminded her why. She was alone. Still. And the room was now lit with filtered daylight rippling in a murky green haze around the walls. And Severus was not there.

Hermione sat up in the bed. Had he come back and she just hadn't noticed? No. She would have woken, certainly. The duvet was crinkled beneath her, and her flimsy costume did little to ward off the seeping chill of October in the dungeons. But it made no matter. All she could think of was the way Severus had looked at her. The way he had pushed her away. The way he had ordered her to leave. And where had he been? She had not recognized their surroundings, but he had obviously been afraid to see her there. Could it have been Malfoy Manor? And how had she been able to Apparate directly to him like that? And when he had commanded her to leave, she had somehow found herself immediately inside his bedroom. But the Hogwarts wards should have prevented her Apparition.

Hermione shook her head. There were too many questions and she had no way of answering a single one. But the most pressing concern was what she should do now. Perhaps she shouldn't wait around for him to return. There had been something more than panic in his eyes when he told her to leave. Maybe he didn't want to see her just now.

She glanced at the clock. It was almost nine and he hadn't returned. By now the other students would be waking up, so she really couldn't risk taking the Floo to the Gryffindor Common Room. But she couldn't wear her costume back either, without drawing unwanted attention.

Wearily, she slipped out of the bed, and padded over to Severus's wardrobe to see what she could find. It was still cracked open from last night when he had withdrawn his Death Eater robes and mask. The thought made her stomach clench anxiously.  _What happened last night?_  Maybe it had simply been a revel at Malfoy Manor. Maybe it was nothing more than a celebration. But something in her gut told her that that wasn't so.

Creaking the wardrobe open, Hermione considered her options. The last time, Severus had transfigured an old shirt of his to be a pretty white dress. But she didn't want to alter any more of his clothing without permission. And yet, she didn't want to lose her costume either. Making a mental note-to-self to keep a change of clothes here for when situations like this arose, Hermione withdrew a set of old teaching robes and transfigured them into a simple, black dress. Surely he would be able to return them to their original state and there would be no harm done.

* * *

The cold hard stone burns bruises into his knees as the Portrait sneers down at his trembling form. "I'm sorry!" Darkness all around. "I'm sorry!" But no one answers. "Please! Forgive me!" No one answers.

_Mercy._

"It is mercy." Cinnamon eyes die as she crumples to the floor. Darkness. "It is only mercy."

"Mercy!" he begs. They are going to kill Lily. "Please! Mercy!"  _I'm sorry. I am so sorry._

"Forgive me."

A tattered bear gripped tight like a shield. Fire everywhere.  _It is mercy._

She lifts his chin and gazes into his eyes. Cinnamon eyes. "I know," she tells him. And she smiles.  _She doesn't know._

"She will never forgive me."

 _I'm sorry! I am so sorry!_ "I know."

Darkness. Everywhere, darkness. He is sinking. He is being dragged down by a heavy weight. And all is dark.

A light. A tiny light begins to grow. And it is  _her._

She faintly glows. A ruffled white nightgown. Bare feet. And cinnamon eyes. She walks toward him and the light surrounds him, banishing shadow.  _Warmth._  She reaches for him, but he backs away.

And the darkness pushes back the light. She turns on the spot and is gone. And all is dark. And all is cold. And he is alone.

Severus woke to the smell of her, but she was not there. The bed was cramped and cold and lonely and his head ached distantly. Someone was knocking on his door. And for one insane moment, his heart clenched tight in relieved excitement to think that it was  _her._  But a second later sense returned.

He pulled himself from the bed and went to let Albus in. "I don't want to disturb you, Severus. Indeed, I hope you sleep more once I've left. But I must return to Hogwarts and I wanted to leave this with you." Albus made to place the Pensieve on the dresser, but Severus shook his head.

"No," he murmured gruffly. "Take it with you. Albus…" he hesitated, unsure how to tell the other man. "I want Hermione to see. She needs to know."

Something hardened in the older man's expression before he set the bowl upon the dresser and gestured for Severus to sit. "Severus, I am concerned," he began. "Your interference with that little girl could have been disastrous and I cannot help but think that your emotions were to blame. She is hardly the first innocent you have killed, but you have never shown such a reaction. I am concerned because it seems to me that Miss Granger may be having a powerful impact on you. And I worry that your relationship with the girl might jeopardize our mission."

Severus didn't know what to say. "Don't be ridiculous, Albus," he began, stalling as he sought some better explanation. "I have given my life to the Cause. How could you think that I risk it in such a way?"

"You have indeed devoted a number of years to my service, Severus. But I am under no delusions about your reasons for converting to my Cause. You must forgive me, Severus, if I suggest that a man who joins a cause for one woman might leave it for another. You have loved Lily for most of your life, but can you honestly tell me that you have not developed similar feelings for Miss Granger?"

Severus sputtered a moment. "I will not deny… that I have grown fond of the girl. But mere months ago I loathed the very sight of her. You cannot seriously believe that she could ever replace Lily."

Albus raised an eyebrow in challenge. His eyes drifted around the little lab before settling back on Severus's face with a knowing look.

"No," Severus argued. "That is ludicrous, Albus. And even if it were so, I fail to see how that could be a threat to my loyalty. It's not as if she is a Death Eater!" For Merlin's sake! He had fallen in love with one of Albus's own precious Gryffindors, and the old man had the nerve to doubt his fealty because of it?

"Severus, I have never doubted you. But I have always known what motivated your actions."  _Thanks, Albus._ The old man might as well be calling him predictable. "Consider, old friend. If Harry and Hermione were both in danger and you could only save one of them from certain death, would you choose Lily's son, 'the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord'?" Those cold blue eyes studied Severus over his spectacles with an uncomfortable intensity. "Or would you choose the girl?"

* * *

Hermione held her breath as she made her way through the dungeons, sighing in relief once she had passed the entrance to the Slytherin dormitories. She could do without the inevitable teasing this particular morning. But as she neared the Great Hall, there was another student headed her way. And as the distance between them shrank, Hermione caught Draco Malfoy's tired eye. He still wore his dress robes and carried a Halloween mask. There were dark smudges beneath his eyes which were red and agitated. For a moment, she thought he looked like he'd been crying. But she dismissed that idea as ridiculous and decided he just must not have slept much the night before.

Amazingly, the Slytherin boy barely acknowledged her as they passed in the hall. She had expected some snarky comment from the snobby brat. And, not for the first time, she had the impression that there was more to Draco Malfoy than he let on. Perhaps he was not the predictable bully he had once been.

Students were gathering in the Great Hall, but Hermione had no interest in breakfast just now. She was about to ascend the giant staircase and continue her journey to Gryffindor Tower when Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly stopped her. "Miss Granger," the elderly witch called out from the entrance to the Great Hall. Hermione turned to her professor, but could not quite meet her eyes. Had her Transfigurations teacher seen her coming from the dungeons? Did she suspect the new black dress and its scandalous origins? "I have been waiting for you. Come with me." McGonagall seized her student's elbow in a gentle grip and led her at a brisk pace toward the Headmaster's office. Immediately, a sense of terrible foreboding fell over Hermione.

Harry, Ron and Ginny were already waiting for them in Professor Dumbledore's office and the Headmaster himself was pacing behind his desk. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said with a stiff cheeriness that put Hermione immediately on her guard. Her friends sat still with ashen complexions and expressions of shock upon their faces. Clearly, she had not been brought here to be given good news. "We were wondering when you'd make an appearance." There was a strange twinkle in the old man's eye that made Hermione uncomfortable.

"What is it, Headmaster?" She asked in a whisper. "Is there something wrong?"


	39. Chapter 39

Hermione simply stared agape up at the wizened man before her. Her mind was so abuzz with thoughts and emotions that it almost felt blank. Bit by bit the information that the Headmaster had just given her began to fall into place. And bit by bit she registered the implications. By the time Dumbledore dismissed the other students, asking to speak with her alone, Hermione was practically hyperventilating.

"Miss Granger," the Headmaster began in a tired voice, "I know that you are in no fit emotional state to deal with this at present, but there is something that I think you need to see." The old man produced an old, wooden bowl that Hermione quickly recognized as a Pensieve and she met his gaze with confusion. "I trust you know what a Pensieve is?" He waited for her to nod in confirmation. " _Professor Snape_ ," he continued, emphasizing Severus's formal title, "has given me his memories of last night. I want you to see them." Hermione's eyes grew wide and she opened her mouth to speak, not even truly knowing what she might say, but the Headmaster cut her off. "You may take this with you and wait until you are ready. But I want you to view them  _today._  When you are ready, you need only lean over the Pensieve until you find yourself immersed. You will understand. And take extra care, Miss Granger. If these memories were to fall into another's hands…" He left the possibilities to Hermione's already tormented imagination and handed her the bowl.

"Thank you, Professor," she heard herself mumble numbly.

There was a long pause and Hermione realized that the Headmaster was studying her. It made her unaccountably uncomfortable and she suddenly wished that her friends had not left her alone with him. "Miss Granger," he began again, "I feel the need to express concern about the… intimacy that has begun to develop between your  _professor_  and yourself."

Hermione felt a flash of shock followed by anger at the old man's words. Their  _intimacy_  was something he had been willing to barter with for Lucius Malfoy's assistance, after all. "Sir?" was all she managed to say.

"Miss Granger…" he hesitated, "I did not foresee the necessity of giving you this information, but circumstances have changed. You must understand, it is quite likely that Professor Snape will not survive the coming war. He has known that and accepted it, but you are very young to be placed in the position of falling in love with a man who may very well die within the year."

Hermione couldn't breathe. The thought of losing Severus, on top of the emotional trauma of the past several hours, was too much for her to bear.

"It is perfectly natural for you to develop feelings for him given the circumstances, but I must advise you to restrain those emotions. Severus cannot afford to be distracted now." The normally twinkling blue eyes of the headmaster bore into hers with cold accusation, and Hermione jerked backwards involuntarily. "We cannot win this war without him, Miss Granger. It is imperative that you understand that." He paused another moment, letting that thought sink in. He did not have to tell her what losing this war would mean. "That is why I have included a memory of my own. I hope that you will make use of the information I have presented to you and forgive an old man for his inability to spare your feelings in this matter."

A thousand thoughts were fighting for attention in Hermione's mind, each one clambering over the other like a tumultuous sea of worry and anxiety and pain. And all she could do was nod.

* * *

Severus stared down at the nauseating eggs as he scrambled them around on his plate. He had to make an appearance at breakfast this morning. It would not do to have the suspected Death Eater and Head of Slytherin house absent when the Prophet arrived to inform the school of the disastrous news. But he couldn't quite bring himself to look out at the crowd of cheery students, as yet unaware of the events of the previous night. And part of him dreaded the thought of making eye contact with  _her._

Albus had touched on a painful truth this morning. It was terribly ironic that he would finally realize the extent of his affection for the girl the moment he was confronted with the harsh reality that he would never deserve her. And if he had had any doubts before Albus's little speech, they had been banished like the spoilt remnants of one of Longbottom's Potions disasters. As many times as he had tried to tell himself that he would always love Lily more, his answer had been immediate when the old man asked which of the two he would save; the boy with Lily's eyes or his bushy-haired friend.  _Hermione._  And he wanted to curse Albus for making him aware of this, because the old fool had unwittingly brought about his own worst fears, and for once Severus was completely torn.

For twenty years, every move Severus made had been for Lily. How many times had he put up with the Potter brat for her sake? How many times had he suffered at the hands of the dark lordfor  _her?_  And now the war was upon them and the end was near. The outcome was up in the air like a flipped Galleon and his steady purpose had just been ripped out from under his feet.

And yet, that fact didn't change the way he wanted the coin to land. If anything, he had  _more_  reason to want to see the dark lord fall. If Voldemort came into power, Hermione and her kind would be in terrible danger. Her brilliant mind would be wasted. And she would likely be taken from him.  _I cannot allow that to happen!_  He might not deserve her, but he could protect her. And if he gave his life to the Cause, it would be worth it to keep her safe. It might even be better that way. With his death, she would be free again. After all, they could never truly be together.  _If she knew what I was…_  he thought. When _she knows what I am… she will hate me._

There was a sudden flurry as the Morning Post arrived and Severus's fingers gripped tight around his fork. He listened intently to the cheerful chattering as the students opened their various packages and letters, and he found that he was holding his breath. Then he heard it: the beginnings of a wave of panic as confused gasps began to draw tension into the Great Hall. None of the students whose family members had been involved were present, as they were currently being consoled by the ever-empathetic Albus Dumbledore. Severus counted that as a blessing as the anxious murmuring grew to fearful uproar. Finally, he allowed his eyes to scan the hall, watching the cheer melt into panic, and he chanced a glimpse at the Gryffindor table.

Hermione was not there. That startling realization was like a punch in his gut, but Severus berated himself for not foreseeing it. Of course Albus would have pulled his favorites aside to let them know beforehand. Even Miss Weasley was absent, which could not be excused except by the unspoken acknowledgement that  _Potter_  and his ginger side-kick included her in everything anyway. Suddenly, Albus stepped through the teachers' entrance behind the Head Table and moved forward to address the crowd.

* * *

Hermione eyed the Pensieve, resting innocently atop her scarlet duvet. The curtains were drawn tight around her and wards thrown up as a precaution, but she did not yet dare look into that unassuming bowl.  _Does he really think I am a threat to Severus's survival?_  The Headmaster's words continued to replay through her mind. With everything that had happened, Hermione was drained of tears and her head ached. And on top of it all, her residual anxiety from previous experience with the Death Eaters made her dread entering into Severus's memories.  _There must be a reason that the Headmaster wishes me to see them. But what would Severus think?_  It had not occurred to her in Dumbledore's office to ask if the other wizard approved, but she couldn't exactly ask him right now. He was ignoring her messages and avoiding her entirely. So, she supposed that must mean that she would just have to do as the Headmaster commanded.

Pulling her courage and what strength remained, Hermione leaned over the swirling bowl of the Pensieve. Through the rippling glimmer of the silvery substance, the image of a large house began to form and she leaned closer. Suddenly, she was flying. A stormy night sky surrounded her and several jets of black smoke shot toward the mansion. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat with sudden fear as she realized what she was about to see. Never having entered another's memory before, she had not known how vivid and personal the experience would be. Rather than watching from a distance like a Muggle picture show, she had actually been placed inside the memory itself. And she suddenly wished Severus were with her.

Hermione let out a short scream as they crashed through a set of beautiful windows and landed gracefully in an extravagant ballroom. Screams were followed by laughter and Hermione was horrified to see that the party guests thought it was all a Halloween prank. Looking around she was hit with the realization that the people she was seeing were now dead, and she felt nauseous.

As streams of red and green light began to flash through the crowd, laughter finally reverted to screams of terror once more. And as Hermione watched the Death Eater beside her send Killing Curses after two running witches with a practiced flick of his wrist, she finally recognized Severus. And she instinctively recoiled. Knowing that he had to play that part could not compare to actually watching him do it. But Hermione suddenly remembered that the Headmaster had commanded her to watch this. Perhaps he  _wanted_  her to see Severus in a different light. And so, she opened her eyes to her surroundings, remembering who this man really was. And she realized that his unfeeling flashes of green were nothing compared to the horrors surrounding them.

Watching the screaming, helpless Ministry officials as the laughing Death Eaters tortured and dismembered them, Hermione began to hyperventilate and thought she might be sick. Her vision blurred with tears and she wanted to withdraw. She had seen enough. But then, Severus began to run and she was compelled to follow. They left the hall and she breathed a sigh of relief, silently thanking him for getting them out of there.

The halls were on fire. There was smoke everywhere, and Hermione finally understood the futility of helping the people in the ballroom, even if he had been given that chance. No one would be able to escape this disaster. They were running through the halls and Severus did not stop to check any of the rooms. Was he looking for something in particular? But then there was screaming and he turned toward it. She could sense his fear.

They came to the end of a hall and Severus burst through a door, standing in the entrance and blocking her view. When Hermione attempted to push past him, she went straight through. And she was suddenly able to take in the horrible scene. As her professor stood shocked, a little girl cried and screamed in the corner, clutching a bear to her chest. And there was another person in the room: a large Death Eater she could not identify with his mask on. And he was undoing the buttons of his trousers.

For a moment, Hermione was confused. Had she missed something?  _Why would he be…_ But the instant comprehension fell over her with a horrified gasp, the wizard was blasted backwards and Hermione turned to see Severus's wand still pointed toward the other man. Through his mask, she could see his eyes, and they were filled with such anger and hatred that she took a step away from him. She turned to the little girl and saw her own fear magnified in those little eyes. She was so tiny. How could anyone even consider hurting her in that way?

She turned back to Severus and was shocked to see his wand now trained on herself. Then she realized that she was merely standing between him and his target: the little girl. There was fear and hesitance in his eyes, and Hermione understood what he had to do. Her heart clenched horribly as she turned back to the tiny girl, sickened by the thought of what had to happen. Surely there was some way? But no, she realized. There was no escape for her. And Severus had to have known it too. Hermione glanced back at him. Sudden voices in the hall drew his attention and a hint of panic slipped into his eyes. She ached for him even as he raised his wand. And as the blast of green erupted from the tip, Hermione's heart stopped. When it passed through her chest, she felt nothing. But the world seemed to slow as she turned and watched the child crumple to the floor. And she knew the fear the girl had felt before she fell. And she saw herself in the innocent's unseeing eyes.

She turned back to Severus and watched him recoil in horror. But the voices were close and she could hear men running. Glancing one last time at the fallen child, Hermione followed Severus out of the room and the vision began to dissolve.

Before she had time to process what she had just witnessed, Hermione found herself standing beside Professor Dumbledore on a familiar staircase, outside a familiar room. She breathed deeply in an attempt to calm her warring emotions and brought her attention to the scene at hand. This was Dumbledore's memory, and there was something he wanted her to learn from it as well.

The old man knocked on the door and as they waited she noticed the Pensieve under his arm. Was this from this morning? The door opened and there was Severus, looking so bedraggled and tired that Hermione had a sudden urge to wrap him in her arms.

"I don't want to disturb you, Severus," the Headmaster began. "Indeed, I hope you sleep more once I've left. But I must return to Hogwarts and I wanted to leave this with you." He moved to place the Pensieve on the dresser, where the Wolfsbane used to simmer.

"No," Severus told him, shaking his head. His voice was gruff with sleep and weariness and Hermione wanted to kiss him and tell him that it would all be alright. "Take it with you," the tired wizard told the older man. Albus…" he hesitated, and Hermione could see him warring with himself about something. "I want Hermione to see. She needs to know." The sound of her name on his lips made her heart clench. The fact that he had thought about her after all made something relax inside.

But the Headmaster did not look pleased as he set the Pensieve on the dresser and gestured for his spy to take a seat. "Severus, I am concerned," he began. "Your interference with that little girl could have been disastrous and I cannot help but think that your emotions were to blame." Hermione was shocked.  _How dare he!_  Severus had killed the little girl, after all. And Dumbledore was practically calling him soft for keeping her from being raped! "She is hardly the first innocent you have killed, but you have never shown such a reaction." His words sent a chill down Hermione's spine. "I am concerned because it seems to me that Miss Granger may be having a powerful impact on you. And I worry that your relationship with the girl might jeopardize our mission."

"Don't be ridiculous, Albus," Severus responded without hesitation. "I have given my life to the Cause. How could you think that I would risk it in such a way?"

"You have indeed devoted a number of years to my service, Severus. But I am under no delusions about your reasons for converting to my Cause. You must forgive me, Severus, if I suggest that a man who joins a cause for one woman might leave it for another. You have loved Lily for most of your life, but can you honestly tell me that you have not developed similar feelings for Miss Granger?" Hermione's heart constricted painfully and she realized she was holding her breath.

Severus sputtered a moment. "I will not deny… that I have grown fond of the girl. But mere months ago I loathed the very sight of her."  _Ouch._  "You cannot seriously believe that she could ever replace Lily." Something inside of Hermione seemed to break with his words. For a moment she wanted nothing more than to erase them from her mind and pretend it didn't confirm everything she had feared for so long. But she had  _known_  that was the case. Do why was it so agonizing to have it confirmed in Severus's own rich baritone?

The other man did not respond.

"No," Severus continued. "That is ludicrous, Albus. And even if it were so, I fail to see how that could be a threat to my loyalty. It's not as if she is a Death Eater!" Hermione sobbed and suddenly realized that she was crying.

"Severus, I have never doubted you. But I have always known what motivated your actions. Consider, old friend. If Harry and Hermione were both in danger and you could only save one of them from certain death, would you choose Lily's son, 'the one with the power to vanquish the dark lord'? Or would you choose the girl?"

Hermione didn't want to know. She didn't want to know! But the Headmaster had never told her how to remove herself from the Pensieve before the memory was ended. She spun around in a panic, tears streaming down her face, hoping against hope that she could somehow leave the scene before she heard his response. But as she reached for the doorknob, crying out when her hand went straight through it like a ghost, she couldn't drown out his answer with all the tears in the world.

"Of course it would be  _Potter!_ " he shouted, suddenly angry. "It is  _always_  Potter! My  _life_  is the Cause! My  _debt_  is to Lily! And that will never change. Never fear, Albus, I will die for her and her brat of a son, just as you've always expected me to do." Hermione sank to the floor, anguish giving way to breathtaking fear.

The Headmaster's voice was soft. "I do not wish for you to die, Severus."

That only seemed to make the other wizard angrier. "Save your sodding reassurances, Albus! I have always known the risks. Nothing has changed. So far, my worst crime in your eyes is that I kept that bloody oaf Nott from fucking a ten year old girl!"

"Severus…"

"Just take the bloody Pensieve and make Granger watch it. When she sees what I've done, maybe she'll finally see how ludicrous her infatuation is and she'll hate me like the rest of them. Isn't that what you want?"

The Headmaster paused and made a show of being sad. "Very well, Severus, I will bring them to her."

Then the two wizards grew farther away until she seemed to be looking down at the scene. Hermione fell back against her pillows, the Pensieve tilting dangerously atop her mattress. It was over. "Oh gods," she whispered to the curtains. And it occurred to her that the Headmaster did not think her a threat to Severus's survival. He thought her a threat to Severus's loyalty. He expected his spy to die either way. "Oh…  _gods._ " And suddenly everything that had happened and all the heartbreak those memories had caused paled in comparison to the thought that she could lose him. "I have to do something." And then, with sudden steely resolve, Hermione stopped crying and took a deep breath, pushing all of the heartache aside. "We have to win this war."


	40. Chapter 40

"It is as I feared," the Headmaster sighed as he paced his darkened office. "I warned them not to be hasty in their decision, but alas…"

"It could be worse," Severus assured him in a weary voice. "Thicknesse is merely Yaxley's puppet. It is easier to remove an Imperius than to persuade a Death Eater to switch sides."

"To be sure," Albus replied impatiently. "But without your information we never would have known that to be the case. Removing the curse could place suspicion on your allegiance."

"Everyone in the Inner Circle knows about Thicknesse. I am not the only one who would be suspect."

"Ah, but you  _are_  the only one with known ties to our side. No, Severus. I cannot risk it." The old man stopped pacing to glance over at his spy. Something in his expression made Severus wary. "Get some rest," he said at length. "There is naught to be done at present but wait. I need my spy well rested, and forgive me, Severus, but you look like death."

Severus merely glared at the elder wizard, but he rose from his seat before the desk, his joints protesting sorely, and turned to leave. "Send for me if you receive any more news," he told his superior. And as he turned to await Albus's acknowledgement, he did not miss the heavy concern in the old man's eyes.

Not half an hour later, Severus sat stiff in an old wingback chair, staring into the golden depths of a glass of Ogden's Old. Much as his body wanted to follow Albus's advice and sleep, his mind would not allow rest just now. There was too much to consider and analyze. Namely: Hermione Granger.

It made a sad sort of sense that he would find himself in this position after so many years. After all, Lily had been the only person in his life to demonstrate sincere affection for his neglected younger self. He had fallen in love with her because of her brilliance and compassion and beauty. But he had also loved her for teaching him about love. No one else had ever bothered.

Until Hermione.

Hermione Granger was everything that Lily was and more. Though not conventionally beautiful as Lily had been, the young brunette's dainty features glowed with life and warmth that melted him inside. And Severus could not deny that Hermione was the more intellectual of the two, though it would be difficult to compare their intelligence. As to compassion: anyone who doubted Hermione Granger's empathy for others needed only to ask the chit about House Elves.

But there was something that set the insufferable seventh year apart from the ghost of his tragic past: she cared for him in return.

_For now._

Severus drained the glass and poured another. By now Hermione had seen his memories. He was not sure how she would react. Either she would be blatantly angry with him— _as Lily was, and with much less cause_ —or she would simply allow herself to grow more distant. Severus was not sure which would be worse.

The worst part was he secretly hoped she would understand. And worse than that, he feared she would and he would have to do more to dissuade her. She could not be allowed to feel this way for him. After all, he would probably be dead soon. And she did not deserve to lose a lover at such an age.  _It's too late to change that,_  his traitorous mind reminded him. Severus groaned and drained the glass. He was pouring another measure of the honeyed fire when his wards alerted him to a knock on his office door. He hesitated. Could it be? He was afraid to get up and see.

* * *

Hermione tried not to fidget as she waited for Severus to answer the door—that is,  _assuming_  he would deign to acknowledge her knocking. But, as she had told herself countless times during a seemingly never-ending motivational speech before heading down to the dungeons to confront him, she would not allow his childish behavior to discourage her. After all, now more than ever, they needed to focus on the war ahead. And personal feelings could not be permitted to get in the way of that.

The door suddenly jerked open and Hermione's heart lurched painfully. He said nothing as he met her gaze with cold indifference—which she knew was feigned, but it hurt nonetheless. Even if he would always love Lily more, did he have to push her away entirely?

"Hi," she eventually murmured. In the long moment that followed, she was afraid he might not respond.

"Good evening," he answered her at length with chilly formality. She pursed her lips in annoyance, which seemed to break through his unfeeling façade.

"May I come in?" She gave no further explanation, and he hesitated before stepping aside to allow her entrance.

Ignoring the open door that led to Severus's private quarters, Hermione sat herself in the chair before his desk. Hey, if he was going to play the strictly business card, so could she. Though one glance from Severus told her that he knew her game, he said nothing as he took his seat behind the desk and waited for her to begin.

"We have a lot to discuss," she told him without hesitation. He seemed about to interrupt, but she held up a hand. "Right now, we only need to focus on the upcoming war. For instance, do you happen to know how I was able to Apparate right to you last night? I'm not sure where you were, but I imagine there were Anti-Apparition wards in place, am I right?"

Severus seemed to relax imperceptibly. "Certainly. You found me in Lucius Malfoy's study, and you were lucky that I was alone," his voice reprimanded her. "But, as to how you managed that feat, I could not tell you. Clearly that is part of the Curse linking us together."

Hermione considered this. "It seems to me that this 'Curse' has given me a lot of the liberties of a House Elf. I will look into that tomorrow." She looked up at him expectantly, wishing he would say  _something._  When it became obvious that he was not planning to, she merely sighed. "We need to be on the same page, Professor." Her use of his title seemed to take him aback, and she briefly regretted it. "We have been neglecting that prophecy and I think it may be the key." The unintentional pun made a smile break her serious expression and she coughed over a giggle. But her professor showed no reaction to her silliness, which made her inexplicably sad.

"I agree," he told her at last. "We certainly need to analyze it further."

Hermione nodded and brought out a wrinkled slip of parchment. Flattening it on his desk, she stood over it to read. "The dark lord now holds the key to his own demise. The one who has been taken will be released, but free no more. He who holds her chains shall have the key. Unlock victory and she shall be free." She looked back up at her professor and was startled to see him glaring angrily at the corner of the room. "Um…" she murmured instinctively, looking back down at the piece of parchment.

Severus's head snapped back toward her and he began to speak as if nothing unusual had happened. "Alright, let's suppose that  _you_  are the key. The dark lord had you when the prophecy was made. You are certainly the one who was taken… no longer free… I hold your chains, so I  _have_  the key. You do technically  _belong_ to me, so that fits as well. And using you to win the war will, in effect, free you."

Hermione blinked up at him. "Well… yes… that does make sense…" She was now unsure exactly what the question was.

"Unless it is saying that the dark lord held your chains. When the prophecy was made, he had you in his possession, and it was said in the present tense. Does that mean that he  _still_  has the key? Or does the key itself move from person to person with whoever  _holds your chains_? Of course, it cannot mean that he will always  _have the key_  because then we would not be able to  _unlock victory_ , as it says we may."

Hermione frowned. "I think you're thinking too much about it."

That earned a snort from Severus. "That sounds rather odd coming from you, Hermione."

At his use of her name, the room went silent and Hermione could feel herself blushing. The emotions she had been holding back began to resurface and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in his lap and weep. But she could not allow herself to cry in front of him, however desperately she needed it. "I-I only mean… it's like Occam's razor. The least complicated solution is probably correct. Your second hypothesis has too many 'if's."

Severus's lip quirked up in the tiniest semblance of amusement. "Alright, for the moment, let's assume that you are 'the key.' Is the term merely a metaphor, imagery, or is it more literal? Albus thinks it may refer to a Portkey, and we know that you are now a Conditional Portkey, but you were not such when the prophecy was made."

Hermione nodded, considering. "But a prophecy concerns the future. The only reference to the presence was the mention of the dark lord 'holding' the key at the present moment. Could it not mean that he had the thing that would soon become the key?"

"Perhaps," Severus allowed, nodding. "So, if we are supposing that this is true, shall we suppose that your position as a Portkey will be what defeats the dark lord? And if so, how? Because we have already established that you are not able to transport other people; only objects."

Hermione frowned. "What good is a Portkey that cannot transport people?" she wondered aloud. "And what object could I bring to the dark lord—something no one else could simply bring to him—which would be capable of destroying him?" they sat for a moment, simply thinking. "A vanishing cabinet?" she finally suggested.

Severus considered that a moment. "The idea is not without merit. But it would open a portal that could only be traversed one at a time, and quite slowly. It would have to be brought somewhere inside Malfoy Manor, where no one would catch us in the act." He frowned. "It is a good thought, but a similar effect could be managed in other ways. I cannot imagine that that is 'the key.'"

Feeling a bit disheartened, Hermione sat back in her chair. "Alright, well let's consider the other prophecy, as well." She pulled out another scrap of parchment and began to read. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not … and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. … The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Severus nodded. "Albus has analyzed this prophecy for years. It mentions power three times. 'The power to vanquish the Dark Lord,' is said twice, and then 'power the Dark Lord knows not.' Albus believes these are the same. The power that will destroy him is a power that he does not understand. That is why Albus believes it is old magic; the power of love. After all, Lily's love is what saved her son, destroying the Dark Lord the first time."

It hurt Hermione to hear Severus speak of Lily's love, but she said nothing. She was only being foolish. Instead she nodded her agreement. "I have been thinking the same thing. Based on several of my readings… it would be hard to explain." Severus merely quirked an eyebrow and Hermione sighed and reached into her bag, withdrawing the Mythology text. "Well," she began, sitting up in her seat and preparing for a long explanation, "one of the first hints at this particular theme was the mention of Love and Chaos at the beginning of the Universe. I know it is only Mythology, but you have to understand… I have been led to read these books by a strange series of events that I have reason to believe may have shaped the course of the war." She laughed. "I know it sounds crazy, but, after all, the prophecy was made about me after I was captured attempting to acquire one of these very texts." She hesitated, glancing up at Severus, as if for permission to continue.

"It sounds as if this is going to be a long speech," he growled impatiently. But a glimmer of something akin to amusement danced in the light of his eyes. "Perhaps we should relocate to my more comfortable sitting room?"

Hermione's pulse leapt at the prospect of being invited into his private quarters. She swallowed in an attempt to relieve her suddenly dry throat and nodded her agreement as she packed her books and parchment back into her bag.

* * *

Severus silently berated himself for inviting her into his rooms, but it had seemed a good idea at the time. After all, he was likely to be sitting for quite a while, listening to Hermione ramble on about her research, and he might as well be sitting comfortably and sipping on his whiskey while he did.

Hermione took a seat on the couch beside his wingback chair and began emptying her bag of its contents. He did not miss her notice of his half-empty glass as he reached for it across the table. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked her, gesturing to the drink. She shook her head and he hid a smirk behind the rim of the glass. She didn't honestly think he was going to allow himself to become drunk around her, did she? He sipped at his glass as she began to explain.

Eventually, Severus offered Hermione a glass of the soothing liquor, and she hesitantly accepted. He wasn't sure why he did it, except that he didn't like the feeling of drinking while she remained sober. But as the tonic relaxed them into comfortable conversation, Severus began to doubt the wisdom of giving the girl alcohol.

Two hours and a bottle of Ogden's later, they had finally exhausted their opinions about her research and sat in silence, sipping quietly at their glasses. It was an unspoken concern that the curfew was long since ended, and that had never been such an issue before. But it was also silently accepted that Hermione would certainly  _not_  be sleeping here tonight. And yet, neither of them made a move to end their pleasant evening and soon the silence became heavy.

"Dumbledore showed me your memories," she admitted at last. Severus's hand tightened around his glass, but he showed no reaction to her statement. The alcohol may have made her forget for a time, but it was better that she remembered that now. Or so he told himself. He would be hesitant to admit how excited he had been when he realized that she was not angry with him, and it had been wonderful to allow the illusion that nothing had changed to seep into the atmosphere around them. But now, they had to face the present, and it was not nearly as pleasant.

"Good," was all he said.

She took a fortifying breath. "I don't know how you do it."

He only scowled. "I am a killer, Hermione," he told her, "that was merely routine."

From the corner of his eye, he could see that she was watching him, but he dared not meet her gaze. "You can only numb yourself to it so much, Severus," she whispered. Her use of his name sent a shock of emotions through him, making him sad and angry and ecstatic all at once.  _How dare she!_

"You know nothing," he told her brusquely, but she was not deterred.

"I saw everything," she argued, emotion tingeing her weak voice. "I saw the regret in your eyes. And I know you had no choice. But it could have been much worse, if you hadn't intervened."

As much as Severus wanted to buy into her persuasion and believe that what she said was true, he couldn't allow her to think him some sort of hero. He would never live up to that pedestal. "Granger, do you have any idea what it takes to  _murder_  someone? It is more than just the movement of a wand and a muttered incantation…"

"I know!" she shouted, more vehemently than he could have expected, especially considering the former weakness of her voice. "It is  _Intent!_  You taught me that. You have to  _mean_  it, I know. Especially with the Unforgivables. I know. But you can't fool me, Severus…"

"Open your eyes, Granger! I am a tainted soul! You cannot understand that because you are still so innocent, but I am not. I am so full of hate that I can no longer love. I am irrevocably damaged by my own evil past."

To his horror, the girl stood and began to walk toward him. "You only think that. But it is your choice." She stumbled slightly as she slipped around the coffee table and Severus wanted to scream at her not to be naïve. Didn't she know how vulnerable a target she made herself? Didn't she realize how easy it would be to take advantage of her weakened state? Why the  _bloody hell_  did she trust him so much!? "Don't you see?" she was saying. "It's just like the Philosopher's Stone. Nigredo comes before Albedo. Corruption can be cleansed. You don't have to let your past drag you down forever. You can move beyond it." She closed the distance between them and straddled his lap. Severus didn't know how to react. But as her soft lips came into contact with his own, his body took over. Even as the sweet, vulnerable tenderness blossomed inside of him, an anger he could not justify overtook it. She didn't understand. He  _couldn't_  just be  _saved_  like that. Real life wasn't as easy as that. And he could not allow himself to buy into the irrational hope that she offered. All at once, he just wanted to show her that she was wrong. So, with Firewhiskey and anger pounding through his veins, Severus Snape pushed the girl off of his lap, following her out of his chair and shoving her onto the couch where he proceeded to cover her body with his own.

 _You deserve this,_  a voice seemed to whisper in the back of his mind. After all,  _this_  was exactly what he would have had if things hadn't gone sour the night before. And  _this_  was what the girl wanted, anyway, if her moans of approval were any indication. He bit her lip as he ground his pelvis against her, but she only whimpered with pleasure. Frustrated and furious, Severus roughly stripped her of her clothes, ripping where he could and being careful to hurt her in the process. She should know that he was not a good man. But as he released his throbbing erection from the confines of his heavily buttoned trousers, she met his eyes with her own soft, cinnamon orbs, and Severus wilted with a pang of guilt and self-loathing. The reaction was so abrupt that he could not suppress a startled sob as he yanked away from her and made his way to the small kitchenette at the other end of the room.

As he leaned against the counter, two soft hands gripped his upper arms and he felt the warmth of her cheek against his back. "Are you alright?" she asked him in a soft, sweet voice that made him want to cry. He did not respond, so she took his hand and led him slowly toward the bedroom. He did not protest as she pulled him onto the bed and laid him out on his back. He did not stop her from stripping him gently until he was completely bared to her. And he said nothing as he watched her tender eyes roaming lovingly over his pale flesh. Then she met his eyes again, and he did not look away. Somehow, the anger had gone, leaving an empty ache in his chest that longed to be filled with something. He knew what it desired, but could not allow himself to acquiesce. He had never been very good at making himself vulnerable.

Hermione slowly climbed on top of him and leaned over to kiss him on the mouth, keeping her eyes trained on his as she did so. But as their lips touched, her lashes fluttered closed and Severus reveled in the sensation of her soft mouth on his as she poured her sentiments into the embrace. Of their own accord, his hands came around to tangle in her hair, holding her to him with quiet desperation. And she lowered her body to his until they were melted together. Somehow, with her in control, he did not feel so guilty allowing this moment of bliss.

When Hermione began to move against him, Severus shuddered with need. His erection throbbed in time with his heart as she slowly positioned herself over him and allowed him to slip inside. "Oh gods," she murmured, and Severus could stand it no longer. Rolling them over, he pressed his face into her hair, kissing her temple as his hand came up to cup her breast. He moaned into her ear and kissed the soft flesh beneath it as he made slow love to her.

Her hands wrapped around his neck, tangling in his hair and scratching gentle circles in his shoulder as she pulled her knees up and linked ankles behind his back. His mouth met hers, wet and yielding, tasting, touching, exploring and expressing what he could not tell her in words. And she conveyed his message back with a passionate ardor that rivaled the fire in his groin. "Please," she whimpered into his mouth and the last of Severus's restraint dissolved as he thrust ardently against her. For a moment, he let the world fall away, and it was just the two of them. But he realized that he was going to finish soon and he didn't want to leave her unsatisfied, so he suddenly slowed and rocked gently against her, reaching a hand down to where their bodies met. And as he teased her there, she began to writhe beneath him, whimpering in agony and ecstasy as he brought her to climax. He knew when she was about to come because her back arched and her breathing hitched and she clawed at his shoulders. "Oh, yes," she begged the air desperately as she approached the precipice. "Oh, Severus," she whimpered with abandon and he met her mouth as she came, shaking violently beneath him and whimpering painfully into his mouth. He felt so close to her; so full and triumphant as he rocked against her for a few more frantic moments before bursting apart deep inside. And as they came down, he continued to rock, as if he could keep them there forever. He never wanted to let her go.

There were tears pressed between their cheeks and she gave a soft sob before he realized that some of those tears belonged to him as well. His reflex at this realization was to hide his face in her hair, but she only wrapped her arms tighter around him and kissed his ear. " _Shhh_ ," she told him and he heard himself sob as the emotional toll of the past 24 hours slowly released from his body like the seed of his loins. It was strange and somehow beautiful to feel free enough with someone to cry where they could see. "Don't ever let me go," she whispered in a tiny, shaking voice. Somehow, the fact that she was weeping too made him feel less vulnerable.

And he remembered his dream from the other night, and the way the darkness had consumed him when he pushed her away. He clung tighter to her small, fragile body, and silently promised to do as she said.  _I love you,_  he wanted to whisper. But he knew that would be rash. And after all, she couldn't know.

Not now.

_Never._


	41. Chapter 41

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip as she stared at the classroom door, waiting for it to bang open and admit a certain dark professor. It had been a little while since they had had an Occlumency lesson, and she was reasonably concerned. Even though she had come to terms with the fact that Severus Snape would probably always love Lily Potter (and would, therefore, never be free to love Hermione), she didn't want him to know how much that sad truth pained her. Halloween had been a horrible disaster, but it had taught her that it didn't really matter if her feelings were reciprocated. She loved the man whether he liked it or not and she would be whatever he needed her to be, regardless of her secret desire to have him return the sentiment.

Almost a week had passed since she had taken him into his bed, but she had only known about this lesson for three days. In that time, she had been reading and practicing with an unprecedented fervor. When he called on her, she had a false memory ready to distract him and a game plan to convince him that was the true secret. But the biggest challenge would be hiding the twisted knife of emotional torment from his prying eyes. Fortunately, the billowing warmth of her affection for him was strong enough to conceal that secret agony. Although, she didn't  _exactly_  want him to see  _that_ , either.

"Alright there, 'Mione?" Ron's voice startled her out of her reverie.

"Yeah, fine," she told him absentmindedly. Anxiety was twisting her stomach into knots and she just didn't have the patience for excuses at the moment.

"Come off it, Ron," she heard Ginny murmur quietly to her brother. "You know what's probably bothering her."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued by that remark, but she didn't have the energy to confront the other girl.

"What? Halloween?" Ron whispered back too loudly. His sister shushed him, but Hermione pretended not to notice. "Can't be. That was more than a week ago."

A tense silence befell the little group and Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in Hermione's peripheral. After a long moment, the door swung open and the four friends took a collective breath as if to brace themselves, then relaxed simultaneously when it was only Malfoy. The arrogant brat eyed them disdainfully as he crossed the room, but no one said a word.

Another long moment passed before Ron suddenly gasped and leaned in closer to Harry, cupping his hand to his mouth as if to tell a secret. "You don't think Snape was  _there_ , do you?"

Hermione had the urge to smack the daft boy over the head with something, but refrained from doing so, settling for a patronizing glare in his direction. Apparently, however, Ginny Weasley had had the same inclination and did not bother to restrain her reaction.

"Ow!" Ron yelped, turning to his sister. " _What?_  I was just thinking!"

"Apparently," began a deep timbre that caused them all to jump and turn back to the door, "that feat surpasses your meager capabilities, Mr. Weasley."

Hermione's mouth went dry and her heart began to beat wildly as she stared up at the dark wizard hovering over their little group. His gaze was still directed at Ron with a patronizing sneer to match, and Hermione suddenly had the impression that he was trying not to look at her. Draco snickered wickedly as Harry and Ginny suppressed Ron's angry reaction. Then the moment was past and their professor moved further into the room. For the barest of instants, his gaze slid to Hermione and their eyes connected. But before she could even register the expression in those dark depths he had turned away. Her brow furrowed and she turned her eyes to her desk in contemplation. Was that wariness she had seen? It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but Hermione couldn't help the feeling that something had come between them.

"Potter," Snape snapped, "perhaps you would like to go first." It was not a request and Harry bristled as he stood to face the older wizard. "Ready?" Snape asked him. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but never got the chance. " _Legilimens!_ "

Hermione was startled to hear herself laugh at their professor's cruel treatment. Perhaps she really was losing her mind.

For a long moment Severus and Harry were frozen in place, staring into each other's eyes. It struck her as funny. If anyone were to walk in, not knowing what was going on, they would find it rather absurd. She began to giggle again and it occurred to her that perhaps this was nervous laughter.

Suddenly, Harry stumbled backwards and Severus straightened his posture as the younger wizard glared up at him. "Have you no pride, Potter? Have you no secrets from the world? Your most private thoughts jump so readily to the forefront of your mind. One begins to think you  _want_  me to see them."

" _What!?_ " Harry shouted back, incredulous. "That's  _ridiculous!_  Just because  _I'm_  not  _ashamed_  of my memories!"

Hermione gasped as Severus swept down upon the boy and grasped him roughly by the front of his robes. "You  _insolent_ ,  _arrogant…_ "

"You've only  _just_  said I had no pride!" Harry cut in. "And now I'm  _arrogant?_ "

Severus's grip tightened menacingly and he looked ready to erupt with fury. Hermione was so tense watching that she had scooted to the very edge of her seat and was leaning forward as if to pull one of them back. Then the dark wizard's shoulders tensed as if for attack and Hermione couldn't hold back a whimpered " _Don't!_ "

It was as if a shadow had vanished under a sudden light. The fluster was gone from their professor as he dropped the boy and stalked several paces away, wearily pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked far more fatigued than he had only moments before, as if a glamour had been lifted. "Take a seat,  _Potter_ ," he spat, not so much as glancing to see if the boy obeyed. "Granger," he growled, "you're up."

Hermione flinched to obey, her face draining of color as she approached the front of the room. These lessons had become fairly regular and routine by now, and she had noticed a pattern with the order in which their professor called them for their turns. After they had gotten into the rhythm of the lessons, he had begun to call on them in order from the one he dreaded most to the one he dreaded least. Harry was usually first, therefore, and it did not bode well that he had called on her second this time.  _What is he afraid he might see?_ Sudden doubt crept into Hermione's mind. Perhaps her plan was not a wise one. He was clearly feeling touchy today, and the memory she had concocted was not designed to please him.

But it was too late now. The temporary damage it might do to his attitude was worth protecting him from the terrible truth hiding beneath her ruse.  _He cannot know._

And so she stepped forward, turning toward the man around whom her life now seemed to revolve, lifting her chin in brave resolve, and watching in horror as he turned his wand on her. The image brought to mind the carefully suppressed memory of standing between him and a little girl in a nightgown. Unbidden emotion flashed through her body as her heart began to hammer painfully in her chest and her throat constricted with fear.  _No. No! He cannot see that either!_

" _Legilimens!_ "

* * *

Severus knew before entering Hermione's mind that she was dreading it as much as he was. Nevertheless, he pressed onward, immersing himself in her thoughts.

It was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that he could not sort out. But one thing was clear: her Occlumency shields were cracked and crumbling before an onslaught of unstoppable thoughts, like a broken dam yielding to a stormy river. One image surfaced above the others and he could feel her panic. There he was, standing before her by a doorway that looked startlingly familiar. His wand came up, pointing directly at her chest and he knew what the memory was. ' _Avada Kedavra!_ 'he heard himself shout and inwardly he winced at the sound of the curse on his tongue. A wave of pure fear washed over him as the green jet shot straight through her heart. The memory began to fade, but Severus could not bring himself to slip out of her mind. A vile self-loathing and anger had befallen him and he could not stand the thought of gazing into her cinnamon eyes.

Another memory surfaced as he contemplated the scene he had just witnessed, wondering what else she hadn't told him about that night. His attention was caught, however, when he realized where they were. It was a Gryffindor bed, by the looks of it, red curtains closing off three of the four sides. Hermione sat in the middle with a Muggle notebook, scribbling away as she scanned the page of a large textbook on her lap. The sudden appearance of Weasley caught him off guard, but before he had a chance to realize that male students were not able to climb the stairs to the girls' dorms, Weasley was climbing into her bed and all rational thought was lost to a blaze of jealous fury.

" _Hey 'Mione,_ " the orange fool murmured in what was surely supposed to be a suggestive tone. Severus ignited with anger. Then the boy was closing the open curtain, shutting the two of them alone together in her bed. When Severus realized that the boy was drunk, a sudden flash of another emotion shocked his system, and it took him a moment to realize that it was fear.  _Had he hurt her?_  " _I was thinkin'…'_ the boy began again, shoving her books onto the floor.

' _Ron!'_ the girl shrieked angrily. ' _What are you doing!?'_  Severus could feel Hermione attempting to pull away and keep him from seeing the rest of the memory. It was, admittedly, a good effort on her part. But he was stronger.

Weasley put his hand on Hermione's knee.  _'I jus' thought… y' know… we might not live for that much longer with th' war an' all. An' I thought… well… you don't want_ Snape _t' be the only man you ever sleep with, do you?"_ If this weren't a memory, Severus would have hexed the boy right then and there. Hermione redoubled her efforts to sway his attention, impressively trying to alter the story as it played. But Severus knew this trick, and he knew how to focus back on the most concrete thread of thought.

' _Ron! Don't be stupid!'_  Hermione shouted, but it was no use. The drunken adolescent lurched forward, tackling her to the pillows. His body pressed against the length of hers, pushing her legs to either side as one hand found her breast. And Severus couldn't take it anymore.

Withdrawing from her mind, his eyes locked onto the gangly boy; and before he knew what he was doing, his hands were clasped tightly around Weasley's neck as he pinned the idiot to his chair. "You conniving, backhanded, impertinent  _fool!_ " he hissed.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Hermione shouting. "No! Stop! Please!" But every ounce of his energy was focused on his anger at the Weasley boy, and he had none to spare for her.

"Did you think I would never know?!"

"Please Severus!"

"I? An accomplished Legilimens who has spent a  _lifetime_  uncovering secrets?"

"Let him go! You're hurting him!"

"She sleeps in my  _bed_ , Weasley! How could you possibly think I would not find out?"

"Severus, it's not what you think!"

"She  _belongs_  to  _me!_  Don't you understand what that means!? I  _own_  her. She has no secrets from me!"

"It's a fake, Severus! I made it up!"

"If you think for one minute that you can deceive me…"

"I made it up, Severus!"

Finally her words and her fingers clawing at his arm broke through his consciousness and gave him pause.

Hermione quickly took advantage of his hesitation. "Please. It was supposed to be a distraction. I made it up to cover the other memory. The one that you saw first."

His chest seemed to cave in on itself with a pang as comprehension began to dawn. A sinking, aching, throbbing remorse constricted his heart and he suddenly found it difficult to breath. "What?" he breathed, the single word surfacing from a well of livid disbelief.

"It never happened," she whispered, and there were tears in her voice. "None of it. I didn't think… I didn't know…" She seemed unable to finish the thought.

Slowly, Severus's head turned from Weasley to the sobbing girl beside him. Tears swept down Hermione's face and there was fear in her cinnamon eyes. Another pang of disgust and self-loathing rippled through him like an icy lake in a hail storm. Dropping his hands from the Weasley boy, he withdrew from them, stepping away as he studied the scene before him in horror. He remembered the fear she had felt as the Killing Curse erupted from his wand, and in that moment he saw in himself the vile monster that he truly was.

He couldn't take it. Suddenly, he needed to get away from her; from them. With one last glare he swept from the room, not risking a moment to turn around as he made a hasty retreat to his dungeon dwelling.

* * *

"Bloody  _hell!_ " Ron shouted, rubbing his neck. "What the hell!?"

Hermione was halfway to the door, ready to chase after Severus, before Harry caught her shoulder and swung her around. "What are you doing?" he hissed angrily. "Are you  _seriously_  going to follow him after what he just did?"

"Harry," she begged softly, "please. Let me speak with him. This is my fault."

" _Your_  fault?!" Harry shouted. She was surprised by his vehemence. "Hermione, I don't care what you made him believe. He just  _attacked_  Ron! He could have  _killed_  him! And didn't you hear what he said about  _you_?"

"Yes, Harry. I know. Please. I  _need_  to go with him. He shouldn't be alone right now." Tears still tickled her cheeks.

"So you're just going to ditch us?" Ron cut in.

That brought her up short. "No… Ron…" She had no answer. "I'm not ditching you… it's just…" But she sort of  _was_  ditching him… in order to comfort the man who had just attacked him… which had been her fault in the first place.

"Merlin," Harry murmured, staring off into space. "I've never seen Snape so angry."

Ron turned to his best friend. " _You_  think so? I thought I was going to  _die!_ "

"Don't be absurd," Hermione told them. "You know he'd never  _really_  hurt you."

"Tell that to my neck!" Ron retorted. "What did you tell him Hermione?"

"I…" Hermione blushed hotly and turned her eyes away from them.

Ron grabbed her arm, turning her toward him. "Come on! You owe me that much!"

"I'm sorry, Ron. I really am. I just needed something that I knew would distract him. I never imagined it would have this strong of an effect…"

"Get on with it," Ron growled.

"Alright. Alright. I'm so sorry Ron. I—I told him… that is… the memory I showed him… well I made it up and… well it had to do with you… and… that is… I made him think… that you had… come onto me."

"Is that  _it?!_ " Ron shrieked.

"Well, alright. You came on rather strong..."

"What, did we have sex or something?" Suddenly Ron's eyes unfocused and his anger died away as he seemed to marvel at the idea of her creating such a scene in her mind.

"Not exactly."

"Granger," a sudden voice startled the trio. They had completely forgotten that Malfoy was even there. "Loathe as I am to agree with the likes of these two, I don't think you ought to chase him down." His expression seemed almost sympathetic, but then she remembered he was Malfoy. "You're probably the last person he wants to see right now."

Hermione knew from the painful wrench of her heart that he was right. He needed to cool off and think things over before he spoke to her. Perhaps she would wait until tonight. And then… she would go to him.

* * *

Severus stared blankly down at the essay on his desk, rubbing the heels of his palms into his aching temples. It would be easy to Summon a Headache Potion, but part of him felt that he didn't deserve the reprieve. Hours of self-hatred and busying himself with grading had tempered the fire of his anger. Now all that remained was a dull aching chasm of regret, and dread for the inevitable meeting to come.

He had not gone to the Great Hall for supper, and that hour was long past when finally a knock at his door cracked the delicate quiescence of his emotions. Immediately, his heart began to pound painfully and a lump formed in his throat. Hours of considering excuses had left him with nothing to say to her when she came. "Come in," he called out, not lifting his eyes from the parchment before him. The door opened and closed, but she said not a word. And when he looked up, it was not the girl he had expected.

"Severus." The elegant blonde lifted a corner of her mouth in some secret amusement and Severus scowled uncertainly.

"Narcissa." He belatedly offered her the chair before his desk with a gesture of his hand. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, foregoing the subtlety of politeness and formality. If Narcissa Malfoy was at his door at this hour, it was not good news.

"I see I've caught you at your wits end, Severus," she teased. It was apparent that she was enjoying herself very much, and he didn't like the triumphant gleam in those crystal blue eyes.

"It has been a trying day."

"No doubt." There was a long moment in which they both considered one another. "I must say," she finally continued, "I would expect a man spying for two opposing masterminds to hide his secrets rather better than you have."

Severus's face became a mask.  _She knows something._

"As it happens," she began again, her eyes glinting with victory and malice, " _you_  have not." She smirked openly at him like a chess opponent about to declare checkmate. "And with very little effort, I have discovered yours."


	42. Chapter 42

"If you don't leave now, it'll be too late," Ginny whispered over the gentle crackle of the fire.

"I know, I know," Hermione groaned. It was already past curfew and into the time of night when only prefects were allowed to roam the halls. This gave Hermione the perfect opportunity to go to him… if only she could work up the nerve.

"Don't worry so much, 'Mione." The younger witch rubbed soothing circles into her friend's shoulder in an effort to comfort her.

"Ginny, he very well could have killed Ron, he was so angry. How the  _bloody_ hell am I going to convince him to forgive me?"

"He cares about you, 'Mione. Even Harry can't deny that's the truth. It's just that obvious."

"Ron doesn't think so."

"Ron's a twit. You can't honestly be taking him seriously."

Hermione groaned. "No, I guess not. But that doesn't make this any easier."

"Nope. You're right. It doesn't. I won't lie to you, 'Mione, you've gotten yourself into a right pickle, and it's  _not_  going to be easy to fix." She paused, letting her harsh words sink in. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and reassuring. "But you still have to do it. He deserves an apology."

Hermione was shamed by the other girl's words.  _He_ does _deserve an apology._ "You're right, Ginny. I just have to be brave and get on with it." And so, with reluctance, Hermione rose from the comfortable warmth of the Gryffindor hearth and soon found herself shivering in the dark corridors of the castle, making her way slowly down to the Slytherin dungeons.

Winter was encroaching upon the castle and the dungeons were mercilessly cold this time of year. Hermione idly wondered if the Slytherin dormitories were colder than those in Gryffindor, and she felt a moment's pity for them. She had almost reached her professor's office when the sound of a door wrenching open sent her instinctively into a darkened alcove. The murmur of voices reached her ears, but she could not make out any words. And then… was that…? Yes. That smooth baritone was unmistakable.  _Severus._

Curious, Hermione slipped quietly around a marble pillar for a peek, and just barely caught sight of the Defense Instructor's robe as the door to his office slammed shut and the blonde beauty before him smiled sensuously and turned away.  _Narcissa Malfoy?!_  But what could Narcissa Malfoy be doing here? And at this hour?

Hermione's heart was beating wildly as she pressed back against the wall and watched the Malfoy Matriarch depart. Surely Severus was not so spiteful as to seek out revenge?  _Don't be ridiculous, Hermione. I'm sure there is a logical explanation._ But this rationale did not calm her already frayed nerves and Hermione paced the length of the alcove a solid ten minutes before working up the courage to approach his door. When she had, and the hollow sound of her knocking rang through the empty halls, all thoughts of Narcissa Malfoy flew from her mind. What had transpired earlier that day was inexcusable. And she was here to offer excuses.

 _Not excuses, Hermione. You only need to apologize. Whether he forgives you or not is irrelevant. He deserves an apology._ She bit her lip as she waited an eternity for him to answer. And  _gods_  did she want him to forgive her anyway.

Finally the door flew open and there was her angry professor in the doorway. "Ten points from Gryffindor for being out past curfew," he spat. Hermione's jaw fell open. But before she could respond to this unprecedented animosity, he was ushering her inside. "So," he began in an acid voice when she had seated herself in front of his desk, "I suppose you are here to discuss my behavior this afternoon."

Hermione was taken aback. "Not at all. I wanted to apologize for my foolishness in choosing such an inflammatory scenario to distract you."

Severus's eyes narrowed. Immediately he seemed to change tactics. "How could you have possibly expected me to react calmly to that? Surely your little tryst with  _Black_  is not so easily forgotten."

He had a point. She wasn't even bothered by the seeming insinuation that she had been complacent in that  _incident_ , because she was so shamed by the obviousness of her error. He had been ready to kill Sirius. She should have expected something similar with Ron. "You are right," she told him. "I really wasn't thinking. I suppose I never fully considered the effect my fake memory would have because I never seriously believed that it would be good enough to trick you."

Severus scowled at that. "You wanted to provoke me in order to prove my jealousy over you."

"No! I just knew that I would need something big to distract you from the true secret I wanted to hide. I knew that if you saw my fear in that moment from your memories where I stood between you and that little girl, you would never understand that I was merely taken aback and that I really do trust that you would never do anything to harm me."

He only stared at her for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was low and dangerous. "Do you take me for a fool, Miss Granger?"

His formal address made her grind her teeth, but his words had her second guessing herself. "Of course not," she managed in a weak voice, breathy like a whisper. Her heart seemed to sink in her chest and lurch painfully into a quick rhythm that left her breathless.  _What does he mean?_

"It would have been pointless to show me a falsified memory  _after_  I had discovered the true one. No. You showed me your carefully constructed  _lie_  in order to conceal from me something much more important. The truth  _now_ , Miss Granger, or you will regret it."

Hermione could only stare, dumbstruck, as blood pounded in her ears. She should have known not to lie to a Legilimens. "I…" she began, but she could not force herself to say the words. How could she tell him the truth? That more disturbing than his own traumatic memories of Halloween had been Dumbledore's inclusion of his words the very next day. How could she admit such a secret at such a time? He could not know how she had reacted to his admission that he would never love her as he loved Lily. The truth would only complicate the matter further, and Hermione couldn't allow that to happen. His recent emotional distress had been through the roof, and mollifying that tumult within him was her top priority. "Forgive me, professor," she heard herself saying, "I just… I had been practicing for several days and I didn't want to miss my opportunity to use it. I guess I… I wanted to know if it was good. I wanted to hear your feedback." It was a clever lie, she admitted to herself. He constantly teased her for seeking his approval and prizing grades and praise above everything else.

But he only stared at her, and Hermione knew better than to hold his gaze. She feigned embarrassment and cast her glance to the desktop, wishing to Merlin that he would say  _something_. Finally, his resonant anger made itself known in a slow, dangerous tone. "Don't. Lie. To me."

She caught his gaze in surprise and could see the fury building there. It shocked her so violently that she was choked with fear. Having seen him so gentle and kind, it was hard to reconcile that man with the one before her, emanating power and rage so formidably that she had to resist the urge to pull away from him. He was treating her like… like… an  _enemy._  And the truth of that hurt so acutely that tears sprang to her eyes. Didn't he know that she was on his side? That she was only lying to protect him? That she would do anything for him? That was something that Lily had never given him, but he loved  _her_ , not Hermione. And the injustice of that stung with a fiery strength that made her sob involuntarily as tears escaped her eyes and fled away across her cheeks. She ducked her face, hiding her hurt from his sight, and wiped away the tears. But they continued to spring forth like a broken tap that she could not seem to staunch.

"Granger…" he grumbled in a grudgingly consoling tone. He was clearly impatient with her tears, but she could not seem to stop the sudden fit of sobs that wracked her weakened body. After all, the last few weeks had taken a toll on her as well. "You should not be afraid to speak to me," he continued in a low, gentle voice, "whatever it is." He sighed. "I will try not to be angry."

A bitter laugh escaped Hermione's hysterical weeping. Then he was quiet, but Hermione could feel the tension of his impatience in the room. She wanted to give him an answer; any answer. But when she lifted her face to his, a fresh bout of tears welled up and she brushed desperately at the sides of her face in an attempt to banish them. "I…" she sobbed, "I…" she could not catch her breath. Helplessly, she collapsed back into the safety of her palms and dropped the shield of her resolve, allowing the tears to come freely and not bothering to hold back her sobs.

"Hermione," he murmured softly, but that only made her cry harder. There was a creek of wood and soon a hand was upon her shoulder. She simultaneously wanted to pull away and lean into it. Then the cold tips of his fingers slid under her chin, lifting her face to his. The unreadable mask he used to conceal emotion was hammered in place, but there was something akin to regret in his eyes. He reached for her hand and slowly pulled her up out of the chair, led her into his personal quarters, and sat her on the couch.

Somehow, the change of surroundings helped to calm Hermione, as if he was admitting that she was not merely his student. He was letting her in, which she knew was difficult for him. And even if this gesture was only a millionth of what she craved, it was a step in the right direction.

Severus left her there, slipping over to his small kitchenette, where he seemed to be going through the motions of preparing tea by hand. She shouldn't have been surprised to learn that the Potions Master brewed his own tea.

Slowly, her eyes exhausted their stores, the lump in her throat eased, the ache in her chest grew numb, and her sobs dwindled down to mere hitches of breath in an otherwise steady rhythm. She kept her eyes on his weary form, noting the fatigue evident in his slow movements and hunched posture. He clearly had not slept much over the past couple of weeks, and she bit her lip in worry over that thought.

Finally, Severus carried two mismatched mugs over to the couch and handed one to Hermione as he took his place beside her. Her first sip was a bit of a shock. He had sweetened it the way she used to back at Grimmauld Place. Usually, her tea matched her mood, and at a time like this she would have drunk it black. But somehow the sweetness and the fact that he had done it in order to comfort her seemed to have a medicinal effect on her emotionally wrought body. The heat seeped into her very blood as the sugar lifted the corners of her mouth in appreciation and pleasure.

They sipped the hot tea in silence for a moment or two, before the Potions Master turned to look at her. "Better?" he asked.

She nodded. "Much." His lip twitched infinitesimally and he hid his mouth behind another sip of tea. Comprehension flashed in a flush across her cheeks. "What did you give me?" she murmured in a neutral tone.

He met her eyes. "Calming Draught," he admitted, not glancing away.

She met the challenge in his gaze by nodding and lifting her mug to her lips. That brought an outright smirk to his lips and Hermione couldn't hold back a smile. It was better this way, she told herself.

"Now, what were you trying to hide from me?"

Hermione was suddenly struck with fear that he had laced the tea with Veritaserum as well, but she was not compelled to respond to him. With relief and resignation, she dipped her head and studied the weave of the upholstery beneath her. "I…" she took a deep, fortifying breath. "The truth is, I didn't want you to know that… when Professor Dumbledore showed me your memories… he included one of his own." She looked up at that and caught an expression of alarm before his mask fell back into place. "It was nothing dramatic, really, just a conversation the two of you had the morning after Halloween."

"The morning after…?" He broke off, lost in thought, and Hermione turned her eyes back to her lap. A long swallow of the hot, sweet tea calmed her frazzled nerves, and helped to soothe the ache in her chest. Severus did not seem to have spiked his own tea with the potion. "He  _showed you that?_ " Oh yes, he was definitely angry.

* * *

 _That meddling old son-of-a-banshee!_ Severus fumed silently as he replayed the conversation he had had with Albus.  _So for the past couple of weeks, she has believed… Fuck!_ He thought back to her aloof behavior ever since Halloween. And then…  _Oh gods, and when she made love to me…_  Severus jumped up from the couch and began to pace. Albus had gone too far this time. Of all the manipulative, selfish… But, of course, everything the Headmaster did was in the best interests of the Cause. He had confronted Severus about just that, and Severus…  _Gods, I gave him all the ammunition he needed to exact his own agenda._ He stopped pacing.  _Well I'm not going to allow that._

 _And yet…_  if he were to contradict the Headmaster's words, he would have to admit certain  _feelings_  that he harbored for the girl, and wasn't that exactly what he had been trying to avoid? After all, none of this changed the fact that he would probably die in the coming months and he couldn't bear the thought of her mourning him as a lost lover.  _We've passed that point,_  he reminded himself. On the one hand, he did not think it was fair to lure her into a more substantial relationship with him; a man so badly damaged from his own evil past that he hadn't believed himself capable of love. On the other hand…

He looked at the girl. She had never seemed so small. It was evident that her belief that he did not care for her had taken quite a toll on her emotional wellbeing. She looked weak and torn and… broken _. No._ He had hurt her enough already. She deserved to know the truth.

And yet… wasn't that a selfish motive? Wouldn't he be discounting the needs of the Order and the priority of the Cause in order to assuage a more selfish worry? Couldn't a deeper relationship with the girl endanger the Cause?  _And which is a higher priority?_  He bristled at the dangerous question. It was something he had not allowed himself to consider. But he realized, though he had always been willing to sacrifice himself to the Cause, he was not willing to sacrifice  _her._ No.  _Not Hermione_. The force of that realization left him light-headed. His priority had been the Order for the better part of two decades. To have that change at such a crucial time… could have disastrous consequences.

So then, the question was, if Hermione's wellbeing was his top priority, what was the best course of action? It was clear that she was not well at the moment, believing what Albus had shown her. But wouldn't she be better off in the long run, believing that he did not love her, when he was not likely to live much longer? She was young and strong. She would survive. And she would be able to find new love; more appropriate love. She would move on and have a healthy life without him.  _Without me._  But Severus could barely stand the thought. A selfish part of him wanted her to love him back; wanted to have her for the rest of his life, however short that might be.

And then… what was to say that he  _needed_  to die after all. Perhaps he could survive. The thought made him stop his pacing, and stare down at the rug. A shudder trembled down his frame. He had never contemplated life after the war. What if…  _what if I could be with_ her _when it is all over?_  The idea was too good to fully comprehend. Wave after wave of heady emotion fell over him at the thought. But it almost felt gratuitous and unrealistic. If Hermione Granger had been given a choice, she never would have chosen the dark professor. Once they were released from the Curse that forced them together, she would see the other options around her, and probably change her mind about Severus.

He turned to look at the girl, watching him with frightened eyes, biting her lip and holding her knees close to her chest. And he loved her. He loved her so much that, while part of him only wanted to wrap her in his arms and keep her there forever, as a whole he only wanted her to live the best life that she possibly could.  _But doesn't she deserve to make that choice?_  It would be unfair not to give her the option of remaining with himself.

But that was the hardest part for Severus. That meant that he would have to leave himself vulnerable to the possibility of rejection. Again. Was he strong enough to go through with that? Could he put her best interests above his own? He had done as much for Lily, and Lily had never given him anything in return. Hermione deserved so much more than what he had offered her so far. She deserved everything the world had to give, and he wanted to be the one to give it to her.

Moving back to the couch, Severus sat down beside the worried girl, turning his body to face her. "Hermione," he began at last, realizing that he had no idea what he was about to say, "I want you to understand. My love for Lily has made me who I am." He watched a tear trickle down her cheek and knew that he was right to confide in her. "And she will always be an important part of my  _past._ " The girl nodded rapidly, to convey her understanding, but Severus shook his head. "But what I said to Albus… I said because I need for him not to doubt me. He is a master manipulator, and it can be dangerous to give him too much information. Hermione," he purred, reveling in the way she shivered at the sound of her name and turned those cinnamon eyes to his. "What I could not allow him to know is that… though you are not a threat to my loyalty to the Cause, for I will fight for  _you_ , to keep  _you_ from suffering the fate you undoubtedly would should dark lord prevail… you  _are_  a threat to my promise to protect the Potter boy. Because the truth is, if I were given a choice between the two of you, I wouldn't save  _him_. But I would  _die_  for you."

Her shocked eyes latched onto his as her lips parted and he could see the fear in the way she held his gaze. But he did not back down. He did not look away. She deserved to know the truth of the matter, however harsh a truth that might be. Severus was certain the girl was frightened by the admission that he would not save Potter, but he would not lie to her. Not now. She inhaled lightly, in preparation to speak, and he braced himself for what she might say. "I don't want you to die for me," she whispered. It was not what he had expected and the simple truth of it made him melt inside. That was all he wanted. Then she turned toward him, moving into the space between them and sitting back on her heels. "Severus," she whispered breathlessly, and another tear slipped across her cheek. She raised a hand to his face and met his eyes with a stern resolve. "I want you to  _live_  for me."

Something inside of him seemed to be breaking apart as she leaned toward him and placed a soft kiss against his mouth. He reached for her with abandon, pulling her across his lap so that she straddled him and crushing her soft breasts to his chest. She opened her mouth to him, letting him in, and he realized that the part of him dissolving in her kisses was his shield. He was letting her in and that thought terrified and excited him all at once. He wanted nothing more than to be with her.

* * *

Hermione cried into their embrace, but they were happy tears. He had as much as told her that she didn't need to worry about Lily, and that thought was so liberating that she could hardly express her elation. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him, and the other tangled in her hair possessively as his mouth met hers. She moaned as he slipped his tongue inside and her hands drifted up from his shoulders to cup his face. He was as good as hers, and she wanted to show him just how happy she was to have him.

Well, he had apparently said something right for once, because the little temptress was gasping into his mouth and rubbing her body against his in ecstasy. He was in heaven. Emotionally drained or no, his body quickly made the switch to desperate arousal and soon an aching erection was straining against the barrier of his trousers. Hermione rubbed against it and moaned so sensually that it made him lightheaded. Growling back into her mouth he relished her answering whimper and the way she moved restlessly against him, desperation emanating from her like a glow off a candle.

Hermione could feel his hardness beneath her; proof of his arousal.  _He wants me,_  she thought to herself.  _He wants_ me! She was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to be closer to him, to feel his skin on hers, to rock against him in passion. She began frantically unbuttoning his many layers without once breaking her mouth away from his.

When Hermione began undoing his many buttons, Severus groaned with need. He wanted her so badly and here she was. Nothing was holding them back or stepping between them. And the thought of doing exactly this once lord Voldemort had been vanquished nearly brought tears to his eyes. "Mmmm Hermione," he murmured against her mouth. She whimpered in response and slipped her tongue between his lips to taste his own. As she peeled off his layers, he slid two icy hands beneath her sweater, brushing them up and down her back before moving around to the front and cupping her pert breasts through a lacy bra. That caught his interest as he hadn't known that she even owned a lacy bra, and soon her sweater was tossed to the floor.

Hermione pulled back as Severus admired the black lace that Ginny had given her for her birthday. She hadn't had a chance to wear it yet, and was pleased by the hungry expression her professor wore as he studied the garment. "Mmmmm," he moaned as he filled his hands, running thumbs over nipples. Then he leaned forward and kissed the soft skin of her neck as he kneaded her breasts. She moaned as his teeth scraped her tender flesh and he responded by devouring the spot with fervor. She gasped at the sensation and began to grind her body against his, eliciting a savage growl from the Potions Master.

The little witch was driving him crazy, and her skin tasted so sweet and clean that he couldn't seem to get enough of it. He dipped his head to nibble the curve from her neck to her shoulder before slipping down to nuzzle the swells of her breasts. When she wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him tighter against her, he groaned with arousal and maneuvered their twisting bodies until she was beneath him on the couch. He wanted to taste her more, and he began by ridding her of that pretty lace.

Hermione gasped in pleasure when the flat of Severus's tongue found a nipple, teasing it into a pert knot. She could not keep herself from arching against him, begging him to take her right there. But he made a slow show of devouring her breasts before moving down her torso to taste the skin of her stomach and leave love bites on her sides. This possessive and assertive behavior was fueling the fire of electric desire within her and Hermione strained to rub against him, needing some sort of relief. She unbuttoned the front of his trousers and slid a hand inside, grasping his rigid staff and communicating her need to him. But he only growled and pushed her hand away. Then he was unbuttoning her jeans and Hermione whimpered impatiently.

Severus took a brief moment to admire the matching black panties hiding her sex before ridding her of them as well. Then he met her eyes and smirked as she reached for him.  _In time, my dear,_  he thought.  _But not yet._  He kissed the tops of her knees before sinking into the gap between her legs, tasting her thighs all the way. Her gasp of shock made his cock jump excitedly, but there would be time for that later. For the moment, he opened his mouth over the swell of her inner thigh and laved his tongue across her tender flesh. When she moaned, he bit down, scraping his teeth against her skin and leaving a feral mark. Then her hands were in his hair and she was gasping with pain and need. "Please," she whimpered in a voice breathless with arousal, and he could barely restrain himself.

Hermione felt hot breath against her sex and looked down to meet those mischievous black eyes as his tongue darted out to flick the swollen nub exposed by his two hands between her legs. The wet heat of his tongue made her arch against him in a heady moan and his devious dark chuckle made her whimper helplessly. A couple more teasing flicks and he had to restrain her with two rough hands on her thighs to keep her from bucking against his face. Then his tongue returned, easing between her folds and Hermione groaned from the sensation. The heat and wet softness of his mouth between her legs coupled with the pressure of his tongue against the tender flesh of her opening, sent shudders of hot pleasure through her veins. "Oooooh Severus," she murmured.

Severus growled deep in his throat. She was reacting so beautifully to his soft torture and he savored every whimper and hitch of breath, building his own insurmountable desire and anticipating what would come after this tender foreplay. Gods she tasted good, so sweet and almost floral in a marvelously feminine way. And she was so wet already that he could only think how wonderful she would feel when finally he allowed himself to enter her. For now, he simply relished the way she reacted to every move he made, and he knew that she was close.

Severus's crafty tongue took turns probing her depths and flicking the sensitive bud of fire that had her clenching the upholstery in desperation. "Oh,  _gods_ , Severus," she whimpered, "I want you so bad. Please. Please take me." He did not pull away but only moaned against her core, sending baritone vibrations deep inside of her. She gasped. "Oh  _please_ , Severus!"

Severus pulled away from her hot sex for a bare moment. "Oh, I will," he growled in a voice deep with promise before returning his mouth to her flesh. She arched off the couch, moaning in frustrated desire. So he took her little bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucked gently on it, sliding one of his hands down to probe her with a finger. He curved it around to the sensitive place he knew would drive her wild and slipped in a second finger before slowly beginning thrust his hand against her.

Hermione marveled that she had never imagined this could be so amazing, and that was her last coherent thought. The pleasurable pressure within her was becoming so overwhelming that she felt like she might burst. She looked down to catch Severus's eyes and he growled against her, sending sparks of electricity through her core. And she realized for the first time that he was hers. And with that epiphany the sensations inside of her crested and she cried out as she exploded inside, electric pleasure bursting in rapid waves of fire as she gasped for air.

As Hermione came against his mouth, Severus groaned from the agony of his need for her. He drank her sweet essence as she shuddered beneath him and patiently waited until she had come down before covering her body with his own and seeking her heat with his aching cock. When he pushed inside of her, she cried out in pleasure and tears slipped down her face and into her riotous hair. As much as he wanted to pound into her until he found release, he felt that she might need something gentler tonight. So he moved slowly against her, savoring each sensation as they made love.

"Please," Hermione whispered. He was driving her mad with this slow pace. Inviting him with her eyes, she pulled her legs up to wrap around his torso and his resolve seemed to snap. Suddenly he was thrusting against her urgently and Hermione felt hot coils in her belly at the thought that he wanted her so desperately.

 _Gods_ , she felt so good! In her arms, she invited him to release his inhibitions and hold nothing back from her. And he complied. Gone was his control and discerning judgment. He trusted her in this moment and wanted nothing more than to give her everything. And she was so tight and so hot and so wet that he finally allowed himself to focus on nothing but her and the mounting pleasure of the friction between their slick bodies. "Oh gods, Hermione," he groaned.

"Yes,  _please_  Severus!" She whispered urgently. "I'm going to come."

Severus knew he was done for with those words, but he dipped a hand between her legs and felt her clench around him in a quaking orgasm just as he finally burst with pleasure, spilling his seed deep inside of her and letting out a shuddering moan. Then all at once, they collapsed into the cushions and panted into each other's ears. After a moment, she pressed her lips to his cheek in the simplest, sweetest gesture. And he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled into her neck, content never to leave this couch and this woman. Desperately trying to hold onto this moment forever.

Hermione was overcome with love as Severus held her close. Deep inside, she knew that tomorrow they would be separated once more by their roles of teacher and student. But for tonight, he was pressed against her, on top of her, and she strove to memorize every sensation as his sweat-soaked body rose and fell with every breath, and his black hair tickled her cheek. She ran her fingernails across his shoulder blade and kissed the pale curve of his neck. After a little while, the heat of their bodies ceased to ward off the winter cold which slowly began to fall over them and seep into their skin. Hermione watched the gooseflesh manifest across the professor's ashen skin and finally suggested that they move to his bed. It wasn't until then that she realized he had fallen asleep and groggily he led them both to bed.

Moments later, buried beneath his heavy duvet, Severus slumbered against Hermione's shoulder. And she brushed his hair with her fingertips as she thought back on the night. It wasn't until then, in the afterglow of his lovemaking, that Hermione remembered Narcissa Malfoy. But she supposed it didn't matter. She trusted him not to go behind her back that way. Instinctively she knew that he would never do anything to hurt her.

* * *

Disheveled and out of breath, Hermione finally made it to the Defense classroom. Harry and Ron said nothing, but gave her judging glances that were full of disapproval.

"What?" she demanded.

"Out all night?" Ron hissed in an angry whisper so that the Slytherins on the other side of the hall wouldn't hear.

Hermione glared back at him. "We'll discuss this later," she growled through clenched teeth.

A fit of giggles caused the boys to turn around, and Ron snapped back around to face Hermione when he caught sight of Lavender and Parvati making their way toward them. "Blood hell," he groaned, "she's not looking at me, is she?" Ron had been avoiding Lavender ever since the Halloween Masquerade, much to Hermione's amusement. Apparently the other girl was a clingy pain in his arse, and Ron didn't know how to tactfully explain to her that he wasn't interested—that it had just been a drunken snogging session to celebrate All Hallows' Eve.

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look, but the two girls passed right by him and came to harass  _her_  instead.

"Hermione!" Lavender squealed excitedly. Hermione didn't buy it. "You've been so  _busy_  lately, we haven't had a chance to catch up!" That was true. Hermione had been avoiding them all week.

Parvati leaned against the stone wall conspiratorially. "We've been dying to ask you about your handsome escort last Saturday."

The pair leered at their prey and Hermione was disgusted that they could still be so interested in that after everything that had happened. "Ron was my escort," she told them, "You know that."

"Don't play coy with us," Lavender reprimanded. "You know very well who we're talking about."

"Whom," Hermione corrected, earning herself a pair of glares from the other two girls.

Across the hall, the Slytherins began to snicker.

"We were so scared when you went off by yourself with a  _vampire!_ " Parvati continued, ignoring the other students. "Weren't you afraid he might bite you?" the other girl's expression communicated a very different emotion than fear.

Hermione could hear muffled remarks from the Slytherins and sought some way of discouraging this line of conversation.

Lavender took up the baton. "How far did you go with him? Did his fangs get in the way? Did he rake them across your skin? Ooooo, if I were with a vampire, I'd want him to…"

"Nothing happened!" Hermione shouted over her litany, desperate to shut the other girls up. They didn't look convinced.

"We saw you sneak off and he was right behind you," Parvati whined.

"Oh  _gods_ , is that a hickey!?" Lavender shrieked excitedly, reaching forward to brush Hermione's hair to the side.

Pansy Parkinson couldn't seem to contain her enthusiasm. "Well, look at that!" she shouted, pointing at Hermione. "The Gryffindor Bookworm turns out to be a freak! Tell us, Granger, does it  _hurt_  when he  _bites_ you?" She laughed maliciously. "Oooo, does he tie you to his bed?" The Slytherins began to hoot with laughter and the Gryffindors glared back at them in confusion, loyally defending one of their own despite ignorance of the situation.

At that moment Professor Snape swept around the corner and the laughter increased tenfold. "Enough of this foolishness," he intoned in that deep sexy voice that had Hermione's heart racing. She had missed breakfast and very nearly been late after enjoying an early-morning shag, yet she still felt nervous in his presence. "As fascinating as I'm sure your sexual exploits are, Miss Granger, perhaps you and your giggling friends can discuss the pluses and minuses of being mauled mid-copulation  _after my class?_ "

Hermione's jaw dropped. So he had heard the whole thing? Well, if his intent had been to inflame the situation, his words certainly had the desired effect. The Slytherins were breathless with choked laughter and the Gryffindors were staring at her as if they'd never seen her before. Only Harry and Ron sent hateful glares at their professor, to which he lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

And then she noticed. One of the Slytherins was not taking part in the malicious mirth: Draco Malfoy. He was leaned against the wall beyond the others, affecting a bored expression and ignoring the chaos around him. He seemed somehow  _distracted_ , as if there was something bothering him that no one else knew. It made her uneasy, and she met Severus's eye. His amusement vanished in a blink and he followed her gaze, frowning. Then his eyes snapped to hers as something seemed to dawn on him. But he brushed it away and ushered the students into his classroom.


	43. Chapter 43

The daunting silhouette of the castle stood out prominently against the eerie glow of twilit sky as she approached the iron gates. They were locked. And so, with a swish a whispered missive swept off on a silver swan to the Keeper of the Keys. She resigned herself to wait. But in the frozen silence of the night, the still weight of solitude drifted over her like snow. And for once secure in her own privacy, she allowed herself to breathe deep this secret liberation.

The towers of the school were a warm and welcome sight for a woman so long deprived of the comfort that is  _home._  This had been her home. Many many years ago, she had come to know its walls and halls. Years and years ago, this place had been her solace.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was never famous for its wealth of affection. As a girl, she had been afraid to leave home, having no reason to believe that the world beyond could be any better. Her older sisters had only ever told her of the terrors of the castle and the forest, hoping perhaps to frighten her. It had taken some time, after her Sorting, for her to acclimate herself to the new environment, and the relative freedom that came with it.

It was this freedom that called to her weary soul like a well of fresh water to one dying of thirst. It pulled her to the gate where flawless fingers intertwined with soiled and rusted iron. For a moment she could imagine that the past twenty years were only a horrible dream. And she was back at Hogwarts once again.

"Oo's there?" called a voice and she withdrew with a gasp as a lantern bobbed into view. There was no welcome in the big oaf's eyes when he caught sight of her beyond. "Wha' 're you doin' 'ere?" he asked, sounding more than a little hostile. She turned up her nose, instinctively. Who was  _he_  to speak to  _her_  in such a way?

"It was my understanding that parents and relatives of students had a right to visit the school," she replied coolly.

"We've 'ad ter tighten ther sercurity 'round 'ere. 'Specially after wha' happened on Halloween."

"I understand that, but I need to speak with Severus Snape. Surely you are not suggesting that  _I_  pose a threat?"

"Well… er… that is…"

"I am only one concerned mother."

"I'm under strict orders not ter let anybody through."

"Well I am certain that the Board of Governors would be quite interested to know that parents are being forcibly barred from visiting their children."

"Now wai' jus' a minute…"

"I already  _have_  been waiting quite a while, now. And the night is only growing colder. Let me through to the castle and I will forgive this insolent behavior."

"Alrigh', alrigh'. Seein' as there's only one o' you, I s'pose it'll be alright'."

The hinges squealed like a dungeon door and a light wind fell like freedom across her face.  _It is safe here._

The dungeons were nearly as cold as the grounds, but she had no desire to hurry back to the warmth of her own house. The damp chill here was infinitely more comfortable than the evil dwelling there. And as she stood before his office door, she questioned once again the wisdom of this decision. And once again she told herself that it must be done.  _And it is time._

"Come in," his voice called out in answer to her knocking. She complied, brushing all doubts to the back of her mind where he could not see them.

He was bent over his desk, marking a bit of parchment that must have been an essay, and she waited for him to finish. When, finally, he glanced up at his visitor, she smiled at the surprise evident in those inky, black eyes. "Severus," she purred, delighted to have caught him off guard. It was not hard to imagine which other visitor he may have been expecting at this hour.

"Narcissa," he answered in a scowl, offering her the chair before his desk. She had made him uncomfortable. Perfect. "What are you doing here?" he asked her.  _Well, well. Straight and to the point._ It was unlike Severus Snape to be so direct. She bit back a laugh. For once, she had the upper hand.

"I see I've caught you at your wit's end, Severus," she teased.

"It has been a trying day."

"No doubt," she agreed. Draco had written her after his Occlumency lesson that afternoon, and his story had been… intriguing. For a long moment, she met Severus's calculating stare. Her visit made him nervous. It was her pleasure to draw it out. "I must say," she continued when the silence grew lengthy, "I would expect a man spying for two opposing masterminds to hide his secrets rather better than you have." Ah, yes, that remark had the desired effect. He hid the fear well, but it was apparent nonetheless. "As it happens,  _you_  have not. And with very little effort, I have found yours out."

Severus was still as a cornered cat; she knew better than to underestimate him. "Your husband knows me better than anyone else in the world. What secrets I may have from you could easily be learned from him."

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. A perfectly calculated response: exactly what she should expect from this master spy; the Head of Slytherin House. She would need to step lightly.  _This_  was a dangerous game. "I have been watching you, Severus," she began again, ignoring his attempt to dissuade her. "You have been careless."

At this the professor sighed with apparent tedium "Narcissa," he began in a condescending tone, "these are troubling times. It is easy to become suspicious. It seems your isolation from your family has given credence to your wild imagination…"

"I have not been isolated from them," she interrupted. "Au contraire, I have been in constant communication with my son. It is he who has given credence to these… imaginings… of mine."

"I see, and of what exactly do you mean to accuse me?" His voice was almost playful in its nonchalance, but Narcissa knew better. This was a man who had secrets to hide. Revealing them now would have disastrous consequences. Unveiling the truth could tip the scale for the outcome of the war.

She couldn't resist the opportunity to tease him.

"It seems you have grown over-fond of this Granger girl." She smirked as he stiffened almost imperceptively. "I would go so far as to say that you may love her."

"Ridiculous." But his tone was far too angry.

"You are far too jealous over her and certainly too openly affectionate toward her. It seems you danced with her in front of all of your students at the Masquerade Ball and soon slipped away to be with her alone."

"She  _belongs_  to me, Narcissa. I know that it is hard for you to understand, as a woman, but the girl is nothing more than an object that, yes, brings me pleasure. I will admit that I have found enjoyment with her company as well as her body and that having an escort was an unfamiliar pleasure for me, but that is the limit of my involvement with the girl. To assume that I could  _love_  her…"

"But enjoying her company, for a man like you with so few close acquaintances, is really only a few steps away from sincere affection. You are far too intelligent to allow the synthetic and trivial boundaries between you to prevent a deeper attachment. If you were anyone else, I would accept the excuse that she is a mudblood." She watched his reaction to the word and was gratified by the tiniest hint of a tightening in his jaw. "But  _you_  have fallen for someone like her  _before_ , haven't you, Severus?"

"I was much younger and far more naïve when I betrayed my brothers for Lily Potter. I am not the sort of man to make the same mistake twice."

"No," she intoned in a victorious voice, "No, I quite agree.  _That_  you are not."  _Check mate._ "In fact, I believe that you always regretted the mistakes you made with that Evans girl. I believe you never forgave yourself for that. I think that you have every reason to seek out that which you lost in your first love with Hermione Granger. In fact, I understand she is completely besotted with you. To listen to Draco, it seems she may even love you."

There was a long pause. It was clear that Severus did not know how to respond to her accusations. Finally, his eyes slanted and he approached the argument from a different angle. "Are you  _trying_  to persuade me to abandon the Cause, Narcissa?"

At that, she had to laugh. He certainly had a knack for manipulating an argument. "Not at all, Severus, I assure you," she confessed in such a way that took him completely aback. "In fact, I am not suggesting that you  _have_  abandoned your Cause, or that you plan to. But now that I have expressed my reasons for believing that you will not pursue the dark lord's interests, let me explain how I already knew that you were unfaithful to  _him_  before the girl even came into your life."

There was a heavy moment of silence before Severus spoke. "Those are dangerous accusations, Narcissa," he breathed. But he wisely waited to hear her evidence before attempting to contradict her.

"I have known for certain ever since the day you came to visit me, telling me of Draco's accidental slip of tongue." She expected a smirk, but none came. This was a man who knew not to tease his captor. "You explained to me that the Potter boy and his friends had been told a crafty lie to cover up the truth of your involvement with the Granger girl. You told them that Albus Dumbledore was aware of the situation and that you were using it to feed the dark lord lies. But I soon realized that that could not be true. Draco tells me much of what happens at Hogwarts. I  _know_  that Potter spends a great deal of time alone with the Headmaster. I  _know_  that the Gryffindors hate and mistrust you. It is not likely, therefore, that they would believe your word and not question the Headmaster about it." She let that sink in a moment. "Thus, the only plausible explanation is that your supposed  _lie_  to the children is actually the  _truth._ Albus Dumbledore knows of your connection to the girl. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if you were acting under his orders. You see, Severus, I have discovered your secret. I  _know_  now, without a doubt, which side you truly are spying for."

For a long minute, neither said a word. Her old friend seemed to be debating with himself, presumably about whether or not to continue arguing with her or concede defeat. But she knew that too much lay at stake for him to give in without a fight. And with that realization, the first tingle of fear slipped down her spine. Surely he was not the sort of man to react rashly.

"I suppose you wish to blackmail me," he murmured in a hesitant tone, clearly stalling for time.

"No, Severus. That's not it at all."

"Then what  _is_  it?" He was growing impatient with her, and Narcissa could feel the dangerous energy of his magic filling the room. It put her on edge.

"I-" she began, but the confession was terrifying. She had never imagined it would be so difficult to make. "That is…" She gulped around a tight knot that had formed in her throat. Her future and her family rested on her conviction. She had to be perfectly certain. And taking a deep breath, she knew that she was. And she took that leap. "I want to  _help_."


	44. Chapter 44

"This is quite a predicament," the Headmaster understated. "I am hesitant to rely on the Malfoy family in any capacity, but their assistance would be useful."

"The Malfoy  _family_  is not on our side. Only Narcissa has expressed any interest in our Cause. I do not believe she has confided in Lucius, or he would have come to me, himself. But Narcissa has good reason to wish for our success. It seems she is unhappy with the effect the dark lord's reign has had on her family. And I know Narcissa well enough to know that Lucius and Draco will always be her first priority."

"You trust her word?"

"I do not trust the word of anyone."  _Except, perhaps, that of a particular bushy-haired know-it-all._  "But I believe she is telling the truth."

"In any case, we may use her maternal devotion as leverage against her. As long as she fears for her son's life, she will not risk jeopardizing it. Perhaps you should let slip the fact that I know of Draco's transgression, and will be more than happy to inform Tom should anything happen to my spy."

"You forget, Albus, that Narcissa Malfoy is a Slytherin. As am I. Such an obvious threat will not merely put her on her guard, but will be viewed as antagonism. She has already surmised that I am your informant and that Potter would have come to you for confirmation following Draco's mishap. I am certain that she is already aware of your knowledge of these events."

"Very well, Severus, but I do not like it. This is a completely unforeseen complication and I do not want you any more vulnerable than you already are. It seems that everything has gone steadily downhill since Miss Granger's abduction and I am not happy with this new turn of events."

A surge of inexplicable anger swelled inside of Severus at the old man's words. "This 'new turn of events' might very well have given us an advantage we never would have secured without the  _complications_  of the past few months. Have you forgotten the prophecy? Perhaps Narcissa is the key for which we have been searching. After all, if she is to be trusted, that gives us not only another informant but a wand inside of Malfoy Manor; sleeping under the same roof as the dark lord, himself."

"I hope you are right, Severus. For the sake of the Cause, I truly hope you are. If only there was some way to know for sure…"

"Well there isn't."

"No matter," the old man shrugged with deceptive nonchalance, "for now we must pay careful attention. She is not to be given any more information than she already has. We will play it by ear, but we must proceed with caution."

"Naturally," Severus drawled ironically. "Well, if that is all, I had better return to my lab. A certain werewolf  _friend_  of yours needs his fix."

"Yes, yes, off you go," Albus replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. The dark professor bowed his head and turned to leave. "Oh, and Severus," the old man called, "when is your next Occlumency lesson?"

"Saturday evening. After the Hogsmeade trip."

"Good. That will be a convenient opportunity to glean information from the Malfoy boy. It may be he has some insight into his mother's true intentions."

…*~*J*~*…

"Are you certain that we can trust her?"

"No."

Hermione bit her lip anxiously, but caught the reassuring glint in Severus's eye when he glanced up at her over the cauldron he was stirring. Lupin was due for another dose, but tonight's brewing did not require as much concentration.

"Well, what about Malfoy? I mean… Draco? Do you think he can be trusted?"

Severus snorted softly and mumbled something about Gryffindors always wanting to trust everybody. "As anxious as I am sure you are to have Mister Malfoy spend the holidays at Grimmauld Place, it may be advisable to wait a little bit longer before giving him the secret password. There is still that remote possibility that he is actually loyal to the dark lord."

Hermione smirked at him, but resisted the urge to punch his arm, as that would interfere with his brewing. "Alright… so… we may or may not have contacts within Malfoy Manor. I'd say that counts as progress." It warmed her heart to see his lips quirk up in amusement at her words. Then she remembered something and chewed her lip. "Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"I suppose I'll have to spend Christmas at Grimmauld, won't I? I mean, I won't be able to visit my parents?"

Severus's brow furrowed and he hesitated. "Actually, I have been thinking about your family lately, and I have come to the conclusion that it may not be safe for them to remain in Britain for the duration of the War. I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of sending them into hiding elsewhere; just until the War is over. Of course, there is no guarantee that that will be any time soon."

Hermione considered this thoughtfully. It was terribly frightening to consider that her parents might be in danger, but she had to admit that he had a point. It would be safest for them if they slipped away for a little while, especially considering her increased involvement in the War to come.

"In any case, unfortunately, I believe you  _will_  have to spend Christmas with  _Potter_  in that hellhole."

Hermione nodded absently. With everything that had been going on in her life, not to mention following the new appointments of witches and wizards to key Ministry positions (so far, it was estimated that about 60% of the new officials were loyal to Voldemort), the winter holidays had crept up unnoticed. Thankfully there was a Hogsmeade trip this weekend, because she hadn't had time to find presents for anyone.

And that brought to mind an entirely different concern. What on earth was she going to get for Severus?

…*~*J*~*…

Saturday dawned with a dry chill that crept through the castle and sank into the very bones of her inhabitants. It seemed the very last sort of day that a large group of students would want to venture outside and make the long trek to Hogmeade through the snow. And yet, as they all lined up to show their permission slips to Filch, the crowd was just as large and cheery as always.

"So here's the plan," Harry was saying. "We'll all split off for a bit of Christmas shopping at first, and meet in an hour at the Three Broomsticks."

"I may need a bit more than an hour," Hermione confessed. It always took her the longest to find her presents (and a good deal more thought went into them, thank you very much), but this year would be even worse.

"Really?" Ron was incredulous. "I'll be done in ten minutes, and then what am I to do?"

"Well Fred and George said they might pop in for a bit," suggested Ginny.

Hermione frowned. "They aren't thinking of bringing more Firewhiskey, are they?" At the others' guilty expressions, she had to roll her eyes. Well, that was one celebration she would  _not_  be joining.

Just then, Draco Malfoy pushed past them to hand his slip to Filch, knocking Ginny into Harry in the process. "Watch it, Weasley!"

Ron wouldn't stand for that. "You'll be sorry, Malfoy!" He made as if to grab the blond as Harry restrained an angry Ginny and withdrew his wand.

"No!" Hermione shouted. "You'll just make it worse!"  _Merlin_ , didn't they understand that Draco  _wanted_  them to respond to his provocations?

But before she could grab onto Ron's arm, an imposing figure stepped between the two quarrelling boys. "Starting fights, Mr. Weasley? Ten points from Gryffindor. And  _Potter_ ; threatening an unarmed student with your wand.  _Fifteen_  points from Gryffindor. Let us see if we can survive this little excursion  _without_  incident, shall we?"

Hermione stared up into the derisive sneer of Professor Snape and her heart lurched at his expression of disapproval. She had to actively tell herself that it was all just an act; that he didn't mean any of it. Then he swept past their little group and made his way off toward the little village.  _What on earth is he doing here? He told me he didn't have to chaperone._

Malfoy sent a wicked smirk back in her direction as he followed his Head of House, and his laughter made her blush guiltily.  _I really need to get better at hiding my feelings._

"Come on, then," Ron grumbled," and soon they were through the gates and tromping through the snow on their way to Hogsmeade. "Snotty, arrogant prick. Who does he think he is?"

Hermione blew out a breath. "He was just trying to make you angry. And it worked, didn't it?"

"Of course it bloody worked! He shoved my sister! That's no way to treat a girl!"

"Hey!" Ginny was offended by his assertion that she was somehow weaker than he was. After all, they all knew she could teach his scrawny arse a lesson or two, and no one was a match for her jinxes.

"Alright, alright," Harry cut in sounding far more exhausted and unhappy than he had ten minutes prior, "let's just split up and I'll see you in an hour."

And so, grumbling and moody, they went their separate ways. And Hermione's feet, of course, took her straight to Tomes and Scrolls. She may have been the only one in their group to truly appreciate a good read, but she was still of the opinion that there was a book for everyone.

 _Ronald. Ronald. Wizarding Sports? Ah, they have an extensive Quidditch collection. Ha. The sport has even infiltrated the publishing industry. Hmm, let's see…_ Hermione scanned the titles. But as she glanced over them, she suddenly realized that she had not read a single word. Her mind was focused uncontrollably on the prospect of bumping into Severus here.  _He was here the last time I came_. But the place was a maze. She would have to actively search for him to see if he were here.

It wasn't that she was  _looking_  for him, per say. It was just that her friends were all very different and the sections she wanted to search for books for them in were in very different parts of the shop. So what if her heart sank every time she passed a shelf and didn't find him? That still didn't mean she was actually  _searching_  for him.

Alright. She was searching for him. And he wasn't here. Unless he had somehow managed to elude her… perhaps by stepping past a shelf at the exact same moment she did, but on the other side and going the opposite direction…

 _Oh, come_ on, _Hermione! You are being_ completely _pathetic!_

Finding a book for each friend was turning out to be harder than she had expected. So far, she had  _Quidditch: A History_  for Ron and  _An Auror's Anecdotes_ for Harry. Ginny had been particularly hard, as Hermione realized that she still didn't know very much about the other girl. That bothered her. She had thought that they were making progress.

But if Ginny was difficult, Severus was impossible. First of all, she knew that he had an extensive book collection, and had no idea what books he already had. Second of all, she didn't want to give him something he read all the time, nor something he had no interest in reading. Needless to say, nothing so far seemed to suit.

Eventually, she gave up and made her way to the cashier. Maybe the other shops would have something appropriate.

Luna was up at the front when she got there. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hello, Luna." Displays had been set up by the door and catalogues advertising ' _Presents by Post'_  caught Hermione's eye. She reached for one with pictures of jewelry on the cover. Maybe Ginny would like some pretty earrings?

"It's pretty remarkable, isn't it?" Luna asked her in that dreamy voice. "You write down your order and send the right amount of money. Then, when your owl comes back, it has a present."

Hermione mumbled her agreement as she flipped through the pages. There were plenty of pretty earrings, but nothing that really caught her eye. She was just about to give up on the catalogue when one image jumped out at her and she had to flip back to get a better look. It was a locket in the form of a Golden Snitch. Perfect!

"Do you think Draco would enjoy a model dragon?"

It took Hermione a moment to switch from excitement over her find to processing Luna's question. And then it took another moment of stunned silence for that question to sink in. "Draco?" she heard herself repeating in an incredulous voice.

"Yes. It means 'dragon', you know. I always thought they were neat."

"Er, I don't know, Luna. I… I don't really know him very well."

"No one does, really. Not even his parents." Luna continued her scrutiny of the model in question with a curious expression.

"You know…" Hermione began, feeling uncomfortable, "I don't know that Malfoy… or… er… Draco, that is, really  _likes_  presents."  _And he'd probably react horribly to receiving one from you._

"It depends on the present," came Luna's dreamy matter-of-fact response. "Have you found anything for Professor Snape?"

Hermione was, once again, completely taken aback. "I—uh…" For a long moment, she couldn't come up with an appropriate answer. But finally she conceded defeat and decided that she could be frank with Luna.  _What harm could it do?_  "Not yet," she confessed in a slump. Then her eyes jumped to Luna's face, considering. "Do  _you_  have any ideas?"

To her astonishment, Luna laughed. "He doesn't want a present from me, silly. He wants it to come from you."

…*~*J*~*…

Ginny and the boys had already secured a table when Luna and Hermione entered The Three Broomsticks a short while later. Soon, they each had a hot Butterbeer in hand and were sipping happily, enjoying the warmth of the cozy pub.

"Guess we don't have that many Hogsmeade trips  _left_ ," Ron realized. "Pretty soon, we won't be students anymore."

"If we're lucky," murmured Harry.

"Well  _I_  still have another whole  _year_  after this," Ginny teased, poking her tongue out playfully at her older brother.

"Oh, bugger that!" cried George.

"The real world's much more fun!" agreed Fred.

"Albeit a bit more dangerous," George admitted.

"Unless you count that Basilisk."

"Yeah. And the werewolf."

"Nah, we've still got that one."

"The spiders, then, we haven't got them."

"Don't forget about Peeves."

"Ah, yes, good ol' Peeves."

"Wonder what he's doin' these days."

"We had our share of dragons, too."

"And Umbridge. Can we  _count_  Umbridge?"

"Nah. That's a joke."

"What about the three-headed dog, then? What was its name?"

"Fluffy."

"Now,  _that's_ a joke."

"Are you feeling well, Harry?" Luna startled them all from the sudden bout of happy laughter.

With those words, everyone's eyes turned to the Chosen One, in time to see his grimace of pain. He jerked his hand from his forehead, but it was too late. "I'm fine," he told Luna, but none of them believed him.

"It's alright," Luna replied, "you don't have to tell me what's wrong. I just hope you get better soon."

"Thanks, Luna."

The table was suddenly quiet and the cheery mood was tainted by an air of concern and confusion. Hermione met Ron's eye, and they seemed to silently agree that there would be a discussion later. Then she glanced over at Ginny and caught her biting her lip with worry. The tenderness in her expression went much deeper than Ginny ever allowed anyone to see.

"Well anyway, the real world's loads worse," Fred continued in an effort to sweep that little exchange under the rug.

"Yeah, you got bills and taxes."

"Customers."

"Scary thing, those."

"And all sorts of laws you gotta watch out for."

"And Voldemort," Luna added helpfully. "You can't forget about him." Once again, the table fell into an uncomfortable silence, which the pretty blonde didn't seem to notice.

Just then, the door to the pub opened, and Severus Snape stepped through. Hermione's heart gave a jolt and she must have flushed because Ginny met her eye with a smirk. Suddenly she didn't know how to act; if she should pretend she hadn't seen him, or glance casually in his direction, or acknowledge his arrival. She watched him approach the bar and began to fidget, unconsciously shifting her position in the chair and drawing more than one curious eye.

"You alright there, Hermione?" George asked her, sounding amused.

Luna was the first to speak up. "She's just nervous because Professor Snape is here."

The twins' expressions were identically incredulous. But before they could think too much about it, Ginny cut in. "She skipped his class today." Then she blushed—apparently realizing that it was Saturday—and hurried to correct herself. "Our Occlumency lesson."

The knot in Hermione's chest seemed to collapse in relief at the other girl's words.

But that didn't stop Ron from almost ruining his sister's quick thinking. "But that's not… Ow!" Good thing Ginny's feet were pretty quick, too.

Unfortunately, the twins were shrewd. "Hermione Granger, skipping class?" Fred marveled.

"Are we missing something?" asked George.

"Occlumency is a very useful science," Luna told them. "People think it keeps you safe from mind-readers. But they're wrong. It's supposed to repel the Wrackspurts, really."

The others just smiled and nodded at Luna, meanwhile meeting each other's eyes across the table and conveying their true opinions. The awkwardness in the group finally seemed to dissipate just as Professor Snape swept over to their table.

"Miss Granger," he growled in that lovely deep voice that sent a spiral of fire to her core, "foolish as it may be to remove the only  _thinking_  member of your party, I have need of you… elsewhere."

Hermione's lips parted and then she slammed her jaw shut as a table of Slytherin boys nearby began to snicker. Her face began to heat as she turned hesitantly toward her friends. Ron already looked angry enough to start a fight with the Slytherins, but Harry's scowl was directed at his professor. "Don't do anything stupid," she murmured before meeting Ginny's gaze. The other girl lifted a teasing eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. Fred and George looked even more suspicious than before.

"Hello, Professor," Luna sang.

"Good afternoon," Severus replied in a patronizing voice to which Luna was apparently immune.

"I'll see you later," Hermione told her friends.  _At the lesson_ , she almost added.

Then the professor led his student from the pub and through a little alley to the back where the bins were kept. "We cannot speak here," he told her, grabbing her wrist.

And they Disapparated.


	45. Chapter 45

_It was one of those days. The rain had brought his father indoors with a bottle of dark liquor, and the consequent yelling had driven Severus outside. The park was cold and wet, but that was decidedly preferable to Tobias Snape's drunken rage. And so, forsaking the shelter of the trees which only would have prolonged the drenching process and been entirely more pitiful, Severus took to the swings._

_Higher and higher he flew through the air. Unnaturally high. But there were no Muggles to witness this fracture in the Laws of Physics. Not today. And the thrill it gave him pushed thoughts of his father from his mind. Adrenalin rushed through his veins, replacing his anger; and his helplessness was washed away by the feeling of power._

" _Sev-er-us!" a young voice reprimanded, and the boy glanced down at a small girl standing below._ Lily. _Her fiery hair was the only color on this dismal day, and his heart skipped at the worried look upon her face as she peaked out from beneath her umbrella. "Stop that! You're going to fall!"_

_Oh how he loved to frighten her. "No I won't!" he answered back. Then he smirked as a devious thought leapt into his mind. "I'm going to fly!"_

_Lily's gasp of horror made his heart soar. It was refreshing to have someone worry about him the way she did. "Oh no you don't Severus Snape! Get down here this instant!"_

" _Right now?" he called down, smirking. "Alright. If you insist."_

_Lily screamed as he leapt from the highest height. And for a moment he was flying._

_The landing was softer than he had expected, but he still ended up on his knees, scraping a hole through one trouser leg and exposing broken skin beneath. Lily dropped her umbrella as she ran to him. "You're crazy, Sev! You could have broken your neck!"_

" _I didn't though."_

" _Come on. Let's go to my house. It's too wet out here. Then my mum can clean that up and give you a bandage."_

_Severus hesitated. He had never met Lily's parents before. "What's a bandage?" What if they didn't like him?_

" _You don't know what a bandage is?!"_

_Severus shrugged, but inside, he was beginning to feel anxious. What if Lily's parents saw how worthless he was and she started to see it too?_

" _Come on, I'll show you."_

_He hesitated. He couldn't lose Lily. She was all he had._

" _Seeevvv," she pleaded, "Come on. We're already soaked through." Before he knew it, she was helping him to his feet and pulling him in the direction of her house._ Oh, no! What if they hate me? What if they tell her she can't see me anymore?

_But then they were on her doorstep and through the door and in the kitchen. And a woman with Lily's hair smiled down at them pitifully. "You two are quite a sight!" she remarked with a small chuckle._

" _Severus hurt his knee, Mummy. Can you help him?"_

_The kindly woman leaned down toward him. "So this is Severus, is it?" His heart gave a jolt at the tone of recognition in her voice and he tensed in anticipation of reproof. But when he looked up into her eyes, there was only warmth there. And somehow he knew it was going to be alright. For once in his life, there was no need to worry. Lily's mother smiled reassuringly, and he found himself smiling back. "Well, Severus, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Lily has told us so much about you."_

…*~*J*~*…

Her body seemed to twist in two different directions at once and compress in a spasm into one little knot at her navel. There, the tug of Apparition yanked her away from the little alley with an elastic pop. When she came to, lightheaded with expansion and dizzy from spinning, they were standing on a vaguely familiar street corner.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked her. Hermione could only nod as she gripped his arm to steady herself and focused on breathing. She had become accustomed to the easier form of Apparition that her Curse allowed. And normal Apparition—especially of the side-along variety—was far more uncomfortable.

Eventually the nausea dissipated and Hermione lifted her eyes to her surroundings. It only took a moment for her to realize where they were.

"I apologize for not discussing this with you prior to departure, but I decided this morning that today would be the most convenient day to visit your parents."

Hermione nodded vaguely as they headed off down the street, but her heart was racing at the prospect of her parents meeting Severus for the first time. She hadn't told them anything about her involvement with him, thankfully, but it would still be strange to watch them interact. Her stomach sank painfully. Then again, there  _were_  a few things she had told her parents about the Potions Master over the years.  _Oh, Merlin_. This was going to be rough.

…*~*J*~*…

As they made their way toward Hermione's childhood home, Severus finally began to have doubts about the meeting to come. He couldn't remember being this anxious to meet anyone since Lily's parents, and that had been when he was ten years old. Already, all of his old worries came flooding back into his mind, and he found himself irrationally convinced that their inevitable disapproval would change Hermione's mind about him.  _Ridiculous,_ he had to tell himself. Miss Granger was a very intelligent, willful, logically minded young woman. And she was a Gryffindor. Her  _feelings_ —whatever those might be (and he preferred not to think about that too much right now)—weren't going to be affected by anyone's opinions on the matter.

At least, he desperately hoped not.

And then he had to remind himself how terribly pathetic it was to hope for her to continue caring for him when he had been trying to persuade her otherwise for weeks.

They continued the remaining blocks in silence, but a nervous tension had fallen and neither seemed to want to arrive any sooner than they had to. It could not be helped, however, and soon they found themselves on the Granger's doorstep, and Severus raised his fist to knock.

"Wait," Hermione suddenly told him, reaching for his hand. "Before we go in there… I just want you to know that they don't know anything. At all."

Well, that was certainly useful information. Perhaps they should have discussed this more thoroughly beforehand. "I see," was all he said.

"And if you don't mind," Hermione bit her lip, "I'd rather they didn't know anything just yet."

"That… is agreeable."

"Alright," the girl agreed with an air of finality, "I'm ready."

And so Severus knocked on the door.

Several minutes seemed to pass before a thin, tidy-looking man came into view. Severus noted with relief that Hermione's father was a good bit older than him, if a few inches shorter. His graying sandy-colored hair and brown eyes were as nondescript as his grey sweater-vest and kakis.

"Hermione?" The man was clearly shocked to see his daughter on his doorstep. But before Severus could speak up, Hermione had thrown herself into her father's arms and was suddenly weeping into his shoulder. "Hermione, what has happened?"

"Nothing. I just missed you  _so much!"_  the girl cried. At that the two men made eye contact and concern was etched into Mr. Granger's collected façade.

"Perhaps you had better come in," he told the odd couple, pulling his daughter aside to allow the Potions Master entrance. Severus marveled at the trust he had just been shown by a man so obviously unaccustomed to having traditionally-garbed wizards on his doorstep.

"Thank you," Severus replied. The words were rusty on his tongue and tangled clumsily from his mouth, but he was certain no one noticed. The other man was far too busy seeing to his distressed daughter.

"Harriet!" he called when he had closed the door. Severus was dismayed to see that he had not bothered with the lock. "We have a surprise visitor!" They were standing in a tidy living room, sparsely decorated but for the frozen pictures of their little family that dotted the various bookshelves and side tables. To their left was an open doorway leading, it seemed, to a kitchen. To their right was a set of stairs at the top of which a dainty, poised woman suddenly appeared. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight bun, but frizzy wisps were already escaping around the edges.

"What…" she began, but then her eyes landed on her daughter and a hand leapt to her chest as if to steady her frazzled heart.

"Mum!" Hermione cried, tears springing to her cheeks. Severus had not counted on this being as emotional an affair as it was turning out to be.

"Hermione," her mother gasped as all composure fled and she stumbled hastily down the stairs. "What on  _earth_  are you doing here?" she wondered in amazement, her arms wrapped around the girl.

"It's a long story," her daughter told her, pulling away at last. Suddenly three pairs of eyes turned to him at once, as if on cue. Years of learning to control his impulses kept Severus from stepping backward in response. "Sorry," Hermione dried her eyes, smiling apologetically, "Mum, Dad, this is Severus—SNAPE. Professor Snape, my Potions Professor. Or, er, rather, he  _was_  the Potions Professor, but this year he's teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

There was only a slight awkward pause before Mr. Granger stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Professor, I'm Rodney Granger, and this is my wife, Harriet."

Severus could only nod as he shook their hands.  _If they knew what I have done to their precious daughter…_

There was another awkward pause. "Let's sit down, shall we," Mrs. Granger immediately jumped into Hostess Mode, leading them to the couches in the living room. Severus instinctively took his place beside Hermione as her father chose the couch directly opposite. "Would you care for some tea?" Mrs. Granger continued, heading toward the kitchen.

"Yes, please," her daughter answered, "that would be lovely." The remaining three shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"So," Mr. Granger began eventually, "what is this little visit about?"

At that, Severus finally spoke up, "I think it would be best to wait for your wife to return before discussing the purpose of our meeting."

"Oh," said the other man, simply. There was another moment of silence in which they could hear china clinking in the other room. "So…" Hermione's father began again, "You're Professor Snape, eh?"

"I am."

"Hermione's told us a lot about you." The older man's voice had begun to take on the slightest edge and Severus tensed warily. "In fact, if it weren't for the rules in place banning non-magical people from your campus I would have gone up there by now to have a word with you."

"Dad, don't," Hermione whispered. Too late.

"Is it true you punish my daughter for raising her hand?"

Hermione groaned.

Severus gritted his teeth in annoyance. "I have, on occasion, found it necessary to deduct points for her failure to follow my directions."

"Your directions not to answer questions you yourself posed to the class as a whole?"

"Indeed."

"Why?"

"To discourage her incessant need for attention."

"Her other professors have done nothing but encourage Hermione's intelligence and talent…"

"Her  _other_  professors have inflated her ego."

Mr. Granger scoffed angrily. "Hermione is the 'brightest witch of her age.' Everyone says so." So she had been writing home about that.  _Unsurprising_.

"Dad, please,"

"And you never award her full marks for her work. But it is my understanding that you show favoritism toward your own House and punish Hermione and her friends for being Gryffindors."  _Oh Merlin, here we go._ "That seems rather foolish to me, as a fourth of your students are Gryffindors."

"Yes, and they are a lazy bunch of self-righteous…"

"Hermione isn't! Hermione is an exemplary student…"

"Who has a constant need to flaunt the fact that she is the only member of Gryffindor House capable of fulfilling reading assignments prior to coming to class."

"What's going on in here?" Mrs. Granger suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her voice was stronger than Severus could have expected from the tiny woman. But then, was he really surprised?

Mr. Granger cleared his throat and composed himself. "I was just bringing to light a few grievances we've had about the  _Professor_ 's teaching strategies."

"Not now," his wife replied icily, setting the tea tray on the table separating the two couches. "They have not come all this way for a parent-teacher conference."  _Would that it were so simple. If only they knew..._ "Now, Mr. Snape, how do you take your tea?"

"Severus," he corrected her gently; unsure what made him do it. "And I prefer my tea black, thank you."

She smiled as she handed it to him and set about preparing the remaining cups without another word. Severus was surprised when she added nothing to Hermione's, but the girl just thanked her and brought the little cup to her mouth with a sigh of relief. Well, this certainly wasn't going as expected, but the tea did seem to have a calming effect on the group.

"Now then," Mrs. Granger continued from her place beside her husband when everyone had a cup, "what is this all about?" Severus was concerned for a moment that she was asking them about their argument. "What are you doing here?" she clarified, to his relief.

When Hermione did not immediately reply, Severus cleared his throat. "There is a matter that we must discuss with you immediately. I suppose you are aware that the Wizarding world is at war?" They merely nodded in response, looking frightened. "Well, the dark lord is gaining in power and his spies have infiltrated our government. They have gotten bolder in their attacks, and it is impossible to know who may be targeted next." He took a moment to let that sink in. "I do not know how much your daughter has told you about her friend, Harry Potter, but her connection to him, among other things, makes her a target." The couple shared a concerned—but unsurprised—glance. "I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to protect her, and that the Headmaster is working to keep them safe as well, but the same cannot be said of you. I am afraid, as her parents,  _you_  have also become a target. I have spoken with Albus Dumbledore and we all agree that it would be wise for you to disappear for a time; to go into hiding." For a moment, there was silence.

"Impossible."

Severus gritted his teeth as he met the eyes of the other man. "I assure you, this is necessary."

"What about our work? What about our lives? Everything will be uprooted. As far as anyone else is concerned, this is a time of peace. There will be searches for us and legal inquiries…"

"You will construct an elaborate ruse."

"How long?" Mrs. Granger cut in.

Severus met her eye. "I do not know. Maybe until the summer. Maybe years."

"God."

"Mum, I know that this is hard, but people are already going missing. Muggle families have already been killed. It's too dangerous."

"How do we know that  _she_  will be safe?" her mother asked him.

"You don't," Severus answered honestly.

"Then she is coming with us."

That thought hung in the air between them for a moment, before Severus spoke up incredulously. "No."

"Why not?" Mrs. Granger wanted to know. "You cannot guarantee her safety. We have a right to take her with us."

"She is our daughter," her husband agreed. "We will decide where she goes."

"Hermione is far too valuable in this war. We cannot afford to lose her."

"Ridiculous! She isn't even of age."

"Mum, Dad, I  _can't_  go with you. You don't understand. This is  _my_  war. I  _have_  to fight."

"You are a child!" Mrs. Granger's eyes welled up with panicked tears. "They can get on well enough without you."

Severus was becoming impatient. "Your daughter is more important to this war than you realize."

""Bugger you war!" her father put in. "She's too valuable to  _us_ , and we aren't going to let you take her from us."

"Hermione is not going with you," Severus declared with an air of finality. "I will not allow it."

"Oh really?" Mr. Granger was livid. "And who are you to  _allow_  it? Her professor? Recruiting students for your army? If you are that desperate, there cannot be a hope in hell that you will win, and my daughter will not be a part of that sinking ship!" Severus wanted to ask him how exactly he planned to stop that from happening.

"Dad, you don't  _understand_ …"

"No.  _You_  don't understand, Hermione. This man is taking advantage of your naiveté…"

"No, he isn't!" Hermione argued. Severus's heart clenched painfully with guilt at the man's accusation.  _He's not far wrong._  "You don't know what you're talking about! Won't you just listen? You're in  _danger._  You have to get away, and I can't go with you. They  _need_  me here. I know it's hard for you to accept, but you don't really have a choice."

The room was silent for a long moment as the powerlessness of their situation seemed to fall over the Grangers at last. Severus pitied them for it. "I promise you," he heard himself saying, "that I will do everything in my power to protect your daughter."

Mrs. Granger's face collapsed into her palms as she began to weep. "Oh my God! Oh my  _God!_  I knew this would happen. I knew that one day you would be forced to make a choice; us or them. And…" she sobbed desperately, "it's  _them!_ "

" _No,_ Mum, that's not it at all. You don't understand."

"I do understand, Hermione. I understand more than you know."

"The war will be over soon and I'll be with you again, I promise. But I can't turn my back on the Wizarding World. It's part of who I am. A part of me that I cannot sacrifice." Tears were rolling down Hermione's cheeks, but she refused to give in. "I'm sorry."

A long, tearful moment followed before Severus cleared his throat. "Albus Dumbledore has made arrangements for you to stay in one of our safe houses; a cottage by the sea. There are already a few inhabitants, but it is a large enough house that you will not be sacrificing much privacy. And it has the added benefit of the Headmaster's magical defenses. As long as you are there, no one will ever be able to find you." Severus waited for some response from the broken couple, but neither said a word. He sighed. "It would be advisable for you to bring any important documents or possessions with you, as it is entirely likely that your home will be raided and burned by Death Eaters. Deliveries are made to the safe house, but it would be unwise to make withdrawals from your Muggle bank account once you have left, so you will need to plan for that in advance. You will be able to send letters to your daughter, but there are strict rules regarding what can and cannot be said in case a letter of yours falls into the wrong hands.

"You have until Monday to settle your affairs. You have had a family emergency and have packed off for Australia for an indefinite period of time. At precisely noon on Monday your escort will arrive; a  _colorful_  character by the name of Nymphadora Tonks. She will double-check to see that everything has been taken care of before bringing you to your temporary residence." He inwardly cringed at the twin stricken expressions on the Grangers' faces. "Do you have any questions?"

"How much can we bring with us?" Mrs. Granger's voice was soft and weak.

"Only as much as you need. If you can part with something, leave it behind."

She nodded absently. "Rodney, darling, could you take Hermione upstairs to look through her things? I want to talk to the Professor."

The pit of Severus's stomach sank with her words, but he showed no outer reaction. Whatever it was, it could not be good.

Mr. Granger hesitated before standing abruptly and gesturing to his daughter. "S-sure," he agreed, leading Hermione from the room.

When they were alone, Mrs. Granger couldn't seem to meet his eye, preferring instead to focus on the fidgeting hands in her lap. "I know my daughter," she told him with a wary voice that made his heart lurch. "And I know that there is nothing I can say to change her mind. If this were a few years ago, perhaps I could have convinced her to come with us. But she is a young woman now, and I know her mind." At that, her tear-filled eyes lifted to meet his, and Severus could see distrust and anger buried behind her grief. "I also know that there is something you are not telling me." Fear burst inside of him, but he didn't so much as blink. "You will take care of my daughter, won't you?"

Severus found it difficult to speak. "Of course I will."

"Because, you know, she may be important to your war and your people. And maybe she's even important to  _you_." She let that thought hang in the air for a moment, but before Severus could respond, she continued. "But just remember that  _we_  will  _always_  be her parents. And I will never forgive you for taking her from us today."


	46. Chapter 46

A sullen blanket of clouds brooded angrily over the Forbidden Forest, churning with pent up rage. The threat of a downpour hung over the castle like the Sword of Damocles, but Severus only bade it come. He watched the approaching tempest with disdain from the seclusion of a library alcove and wondered idly if the Hogwarts Express would outrun the rain.

The past few days had been long and difficult for the Defense Instructor. Not only was he concerned for his godson, Draco, in whose mind he had seen the loneliness and confusion that he had experienced, himself, as a boy. But he had also been carefully avoiding Miss Hermione Granger and the emotions that came with her. They had hardly even had a proper 'farewell,' as he had not been present at breakfast that morning. Of course, that wasn't enough to stop a Gryffindor. No, she found him in his office and offered him a timid 'goodbye.' Thankfully, his coldness toward her had been enough to discourage any more  _affectionate_  advances.

He was both thankful for and regretful about that.

His meeting with the Granger family had put the situation into a new perspective for Severus. Her parents may have been a bit older than he was, but that didn't change the fact that they were more of an age with him than Hermione. Hell, it had practically been a parent-teacher conference.  _Merlin._  It brought home the fact that anything more substantial with Granger—and therefore any highly-suppressed fantasy of life with her after the war—was completely out of the question. Her parents would always be her parents, as Mrs. Granger had said. And they would  _never_  accept him into their little family. He did not delude himself on that. Even if they had fallen in love under normal circumstances and minus all of the horror that condemned him already, Rodney and Harriet Granger would never  _ever_ believe that what they had was anything more than a pervert in a position of power taking advantage of the naivety of his beautiful protégé.  _Maybe that is all I am, after all._

Severus shook his head. He  _cared_  for Hermione. He  _respected_ her—and  _that_  was really saying something, as Severus Snape did not have much respect for much of anyone these days. But maybe it was not such a bad thing that they were to be apart for a time. He needed to clear his head, in any case.

And then there was the question of his godson. The boy was clearly not in on his Mother's plot, if the confusion he'd seen during their Occlumency lesson was any indication. Probably she had a hard enough time admitting the plan to  _herself_. After all, life with Lord Voldemort bred paranoia, and Narcissa Malfoy had always been the cautious sort. But Draco was an intelligent boy—despite his tendency to let his arrogance cloud his better judgment—and he had caught on to his mother's strange behavior, and worried about it. On top of that, her questions had begun to make him think about his godfather and the Gryffindors in a different way. The tiniest seed of a dangerous idea had been planted in his mind: the idea that it was possible to be  _friends_  with the Gryffindors. After all, if the Head of Slytherin House could fall in love with one of them, the possibilities were endless.

"Hello Professor."

Severus swirled around to see the dreamy visage of Luna Lovegood gazing up at him. "Good afternoon," he responded automatically.

"It's rather frightening, isn't it?"

"I… beg your pardon?"

"The clouds. Of course, they're really just air and water when it comes down to it. Not much to be afraid of, really."

Severus gawked down at the odd girl. What was she doing here and how could he make her go away?

"You are too, you know," she continued when he made no reply. "Mostly water, that is. People get scared of you sometimes. But I don't." She gave her professor a tiny smile and returned her gaze to the window behind him.

"And what  _are_  you afraid of, Miss Lovegood?" he heard himself ask.  _Some sort of make-believe creature, to be sure._

"Oh, I dunno," she sang. "I guess I'm afraid for my father, sometimes. We're each other's only family, now, but he didn't want me to come home for Christmas because it's dangerous. Some people don't like what he writes in the Quibbler, you see, but it's not his fault if the truth isn't happy."

"No," her astounded professor answered, "I suppose not."

"And I suppose I worry about Draco, too." She met his eyes again and Severus held his breath in confused shock at her words. "I just hope he chooses right. Don't you, Professor?"

"I… suppose."

"What about you?"

Severus's chest clenched anxiously. "I beg your pardon?"

"What are you afraid of?"

_Oh._

He didn't know how to answer her.

"Other than Hermione, that is."

 _What!?_  For a moment, Severus couldn't breathe as his heart seemed to slowly plummet and his ears pounded with his own heartbeat. "What about Miss Granger?" he heard himself ask.

"You worry about her. It's perfectly ordinary. The more you love someone, the more you worry about them, usually."

Panic was welling up inside of him.  _How does Lovegood know about that?_  "What are you talking about?" His voice came out a lot weaker than he had meant for it to be.

"It's alright, Professor. You don't have to pretend. When you look at her, something changes in your eyes. It's the same way my father looks when he looks at me."  _Oh GREAT_. "You don't have to worry, though. She loves you too."

"Did she tell you that?"

"No. But she worries about you a lot."  _Well why doesn't she just tell the whole bloody school?_

Severus could feel panic rising inside of him at his lack of control over the situation. This was supposed to be a secret. "Miss  _Granger_  makes it her prerogative to worry about everyone."

"Yes, she cares about everyone. But especially you." Her words made emotion swell up in his chest, but he quickly suppressed it.

"Miss Granger is my student and I am her Professor. There is nothing more to it than that."

The girl shrugged infuriatingly. "Draco is your student, too."  _And just what the hell is that supposed to prove!?_  "People don't mind if you love Draco, because he's a boy. But men can't just love girls." The thought sank in for a moment as thunder resounded somewhere in the back of his mind. "Hermione's different, though. She doesn't just follow along." Severus's brow wrinkled, unsure of her insinuation. "She can keep up with you, I think. And she leads for herself." Severus was too stunned to answer, so the girl just smiled and turned to go. "Have you decided what to get her for Christmas?"

"Get her?" he repeated, indignantly.

"As a present, silly. She's getting one for you."

_Did she just call me 'silly'?_

"It was hard to decide with Draco. He's very complicated, you see. But Mum always said 'It's more about letting them know you care.'"

"And what  _did_  you get for him?" It was natural to be curious, he told himself.

"Oh, I can't tell you." She leaned closer, conspiratorially. "That would ruin the surprise." Then she smiled and stepped back from him. "See you at dinner, Professor." And with that, she skipped away, leaving Severus to turn back to the window and think on her strange words.

And as he let her meaning wash over him, the clouds roiled toward them, and the storm began. And the cloudy glass was slowly shaken by the soft pitter patter of the rain.

…*~*J*~*…

Raindrops trickled across the window in crooked lines, covering the foggy glass with stripes of clarity as Hermione watched. It would be lovely to spend some time with her friends over the next few weeks, but she was already missing the comfort of the castle and the reliable consistency of homework every night and school during the day. And Severus. She missed him, too.

Their meeting with her parents had been a complete disaster. Never would she have predicted that her father would use the opportunity to attack the man. Nor could she have imagined the extent to which her parents would rebel. She was lucky they hadn't had to explain the whole bloody prophecy. And  _that_ would have been a true catastrophe.

Her parents' reaction even to having the man in their living room was enough to make Hermione glad of her decision not to include them in any more of the grisly details. It made her feel guilty inside, like she was lying. Of course, it was hardly the first time something had happened in the Wizarding World and she had not seen fit to include her parents. But this—more so than risking her life at the end of term every year—was very personal. And it felt wrong not to include her parents in this aspect of her life. It made her wonder how something could be right if she could not even tell her parents about it. And was it shame that drove her into secrecy? Was she merely afraid of their reaction? Or did she fear that they would change her mind about him, somehow? But that was preposterous.

If things were to continue with Severus after the end of the War—assuming they both survived—they would eventually have to tell her parents. Of course, there was still no need to tell them the whole story of how they came together, but it might be bad enough as it stood. Her parents already hated Severus, no thanks to her endless stories about him cutting her down in class over the years. They would be outraged. They would see all of the bad and be disbelieving of the good. They would likely call out every insecurity Hermione had ever had in the relationship and tear apart the very connection she had nurtured. Hermione wasn't ready for that, and she knew Severus certainly wasn't either.

He had been cold to her during their 'goodbye' earlier that day. She knew he was unhappy about the horrible first meeting with her parents, but there was something more. He had been avoiding her ever since, and Hermione worried that he had been thinking too much about her parents' words to him, or the lack of welcome he had been given into their little world. Didn't they understand that he was trying to protect them, at great personal risk? No. Of course they didn't. Because the Grangers had never been told about her professor's precarious position or her role in the War, at all. And yes, it did make her feel rather guilty.

At the Station, a group of Aurors were waiting to transport them to Grimmauld Place. Hermione recognized Tonks and her pink hair at the front of the group, smiling and waving excitedly. The older witch beside her looked on with disdain, but said nothing as the students approached.

"Wotcher?" she exclaimed, grabbing Harry in a bear hug as Molly Weasley reached for Ron. "Hermione," she began again when hugs had been exchanged and they were finally headed off, "met your parents the other day. Handsome man, your dad. Not that you need to worry. Remus is all the man I need." She winked happily at the other girls and Ginny laughed.

"Have you two finally gone public with that?"

"Well first I had to persuade the man, you silly goose. But he finally got tired of my pestering and agreed to go out with me. Now, of course, he can't take his hands off me. Not that I've asked him, mind you. I'm content never to let him let go."

"That's great!" Hermione told her, sincerely. She only wished she could be as publicly in love as the older witch, but there would be time for that when the dark lord was dead.  _Hopefully._

They found Grimmauld Place as dark and dank as they had left it, and Hermione hurried to put her things away before the  _other_  inhabitants came out to greet the new arrivals. She hadn't really considered how she would treat Sirius Black when she saw him, but time had only made  _that incident_  seem worse and worse.

The episode with Sirius had taken place during a very dark time for Hermione. At the time, what he had done had really seemed like nothing compared to the atrocities she had witnessed. And her emotions had already been in turmoil over her blossoming affection for the Potions Master, so the anger and indignation Sirius caused were like drops in the proverbial bucket. Now, of course, she was horrified to remember what had occurred between them, and amazed that she hadn't hexed his bits off by now. For the moment, she was safe. He was downstairs chatting excitedly with Harry and the others. But at some point during the weeks to come, she would have to have a talk with him, and it would not be easy.

"Oh Crooks," she sighed, scratching the orange cat behind the ears, "I don't know what to do."

…*~*J*~*…

Relief stripped some anxiety away when Severus realized that the dark lord was not present this evening. The Malfoys had summoned him to dinner, presumably to celebrate the holidays. They had often spent such occasions together, before Lord Voldemort's return. Of course, the dark lord's presence still seemed to linger like an omen over the dinner party, if only in thought. But he could relax a little in the knowledge that his every move was not being analyzed by their Master, himself. And although Bellatrix was present and would be watching him closely, she was not nearly as perceptive as the dark lord.

Lucius sat at the head of the table; an honor he had not had in his own household in some time. Curiously, Narcissa—who traditionally took the chair at her husband's right hand—was seated to Lucius's left, while Draco Malfoy took the place to his right. Severus was next to him, which placed him directly across the table from Narcissa's darling sister, Bella.

"All alone, are we—Sevvy-rus?" Bellatrix teased. "Didn't want to bring your ittle girlfriend?"

Severus merely met her eyes in a cold stare and took a sip of his wine.  _I would never bring her here. She will never belong here._ He was very aware of Draco's inquisitive gaze and the way Narcissa's eyes warmed with laughter that never reached her lips. Lucius, himself, seemed oblivious enough, but Severus knew not to underestimate the man.

"Must be peaceful, having that castle to yourself, Severus," his old friend remarked bitterly.

"I am not alone. There are many professors who chose to remain during the break; and a larger group of students than years past. Even when I sought the peaceful refuge of the library, I was accosted by one Luna Lovegood. I suppose you remember Xenophilius."

"Ah, yes. The crackpot editor of that ridiculous magazine. I imagine she wanted to recruit you for help against the Bogeyman?" Lucius laughed icily, but Severus noticed a telltale tinge in his godson's cheeks as he clenched his fists suspiciously.

"An eerily perceptive girl, that one," Severus remarked. "She had the nerve to compare me to the storm outside. Brewing, as it was."

Narcissa laughed at the quip, but Draco's face was ashen and his shoulders were tense as if with fear.  _This is who I am. This is where I belong._ "A brave girl, then," the Malfoy matriarch noted, "to approach such a  _dark_  and  _dangerous_  wizard as yourself, Severus." Narcissa winked at him across the table, but no one else seemed to notice her mocking tone.

"A fool!" Bellatrix replied. "If she knew whom you serve, she would never  _dare_  speak to you that way!"

"Alas, that is a carefully guarded secret, Bella," Lucius reminded her. "And the girl is young and naïve." But that was an oversimplification. Miss Lovegood was young, but she wasn't exactly naïve. While she may have acted ignorant, she seemed to know things that others never caught on to. She was no mere girl of seventeen.

"As is the little Mudblood, right Sevvy? Quite taken with you, isn't she?" Bellatrix's sneer was evil, but Draco seemed to relax at the turn in conversation.  _How is it that everyone seems to know about that?_

"They will learn," he responded. "In time."

…*~*J*~*…

"Hermione!" Sirius stood from his place beside Harry at the table when she entered the small basement kitchen, at last. "We were beginning to worry about you!" He made as if to come to her, so Hermione quickly took a seat across from them.

"Sorry. I wasn't feeling well."

"Oh, so sorry. Would you care for a pick-me-up?" He gestured to a pot on the stove; presumably the source of the spicy scent in the air. "Mulled apple cider. Come, it's not very strong. Even Molly's given her consent."

"Alright, I suppose," she conceded. It was sweet and hot with a nice tang on her tongue and spices in the back of her throat. And there was something else; something subtle beneath the bursts of flavor; a deep, smooth, heavy taste. She found herself wondering if Severus would have liked to try it.

"It's so good to have company again," Sirius was saying. "Remus and Tonks visit now and then, but mostly it's just me and Buckbeak in between Order meetings."

"How is Buckbeak?" Ron wanted to know. More likely he was wondering when the next feeding would be.

"He's alright. Been a bit depressed. Cooped up in here all the time and never allowed to fly." He wasn't just talking about the Hippogriff, was he?

Harry seemed to sense the other man's bitterness and set a hand on his godfather's arm. "Don't worry, Sirius. It's not much longer. When the War is over, we'll take him out into the country where he can fly and hunt all day long, if he chooses."

"I think he'd like that," Sirius replied with a sad smile.

There was a sudden, loud crack and the group yelped collectively as a pair of red-haired, befreckled faces popped into view. "We're here!"

"Fred! George!" Ginny leapt up to embrace her brothers. "I was afraid you'd be too busy for us this year."

"Don't be ridiculous," said George.

"It wouldn't be a holiday without the two of us!"

"Yeah. Someone has to start the mischief."

"And we've got loads of ideas about that." Fred winked at his brother.

"Do you?" came a voice from the doorway and they all turned to see Mrs. Weasley standing there with her arms crossed. "Well I'm afraid it will have to wait until after dinner."

Dinner was an exciting affair; gathering the whole bunch together into one room and asking them to sit down nicely and eat their supper. Ha. Remus and Tonks had come back for the evening and even Mad-Eye Moody had shown up for a bit of holiday cheer. The only one who seemed to be missing—besides Fleur and Bill, but most people were content to let the two over-amorous lovebirds spend the holiday elsewhere—was Severus. In her heart, Hermione knew that he wouldn't fit right in and laugh along with the rest of them the way she wanted to picture him, but it still felt like the scene was somehow incomplete without him.

Sirius kept catching her eye over the course of the meal and she knew right away that he wanted to speak to her. It made her stomach twist in knots of dread because she still hadn't decided what she was going to say to the misguided son-of-a-bitch. He had been of the impression, before  _the incident_ , that she returned his…  _feelings_ … whatever they were. And when she had last seen him, she had just taken him up to Professor Dumbledore, presumably of her own free will. There was no telling what he would say to her when the time came. And she just wasn't ready for it.

Pudding was served and the party slowly broke apart. Remus and Tonks said 'goodnight,' Madeye and Mr. Weasley began discussing the various suspect Ministry appointees, Mrs. Weasley was already lecturing the twins about behaving themselves this holiday, and Ginny was watching Harry and Ron play Wizard's Chess. She met Sirius's eye across the table and it suddenly seemed as if everything else was background noise. His focus was entirely on her and she knew what he was about to do. Dread and embarrassment leapt up into her throat and her cheeks caught fire as he stood from his place.

She nearly stumbled over her chair in her haste to leave the room.


	47. Chapter 47

_Dearest Hermione,_

_We have finally unpacked and made ourselves at home in the little cottage. It is a pretty place. Maybe before this War is over you will be able to visit and see for yourself. Our bedroom looks out on the sand dunes and the Sea. It is quiet, for the most part. Our housemates, Bill and Fleur, are very kind and keep mostly to themselves. I felt awful when I learned that they were newlyweds and we were tromping in on their peace and solitude. But Bill maintains that this house is a safehouse first and foremost, and they don't mind the company. I hope he's telling the truth._

_We miss you, of course. I know you don't want to hear that. After all, we never see you this time of year anymore, anyway. But it is sad being without you at the holidays and now we are completely isolated. Of course, I don't blame you. I know that this is for our safety, but that does not put my mind at ease. I hate to imagine that you are out there, in danger, while we are safely tucked away in this little paradise. Will we be able to see you at all?_

_Don't be angry with me, but I worry about that professor of yours. I know that the two of you are keeping something from us, and I knew better than to try talking it out of you. But I worry that his intentions may not be entirely selfless. You are very smart, Hermione, and I do trust your judgment. In most cases. I only worry because I remember what it's like to be your age, and it must be a thousand times worse with a war going on around you. It concerns me that he called you by your first name. In your stories, it was always 'Miss Granger.' Of course, I can allow that he would not refer to you that way to your own parents, perhaps, only it seemed to come so naturally to him. You may scorn my words, Hermione, but I know you, and I was uncomfortable with the way the two of you moved around each other. You sat awfully close for a professor and a student, and you seemed to draw off of each other like a team._

_One of the sacrifices we have had to make in sending you to boarding school is that we have not been as involved in your life as I would like. For one thing, we have never really discussed sex with you. I know you don't want to hear it and I know you are rolling your eyes at me, but there is no reason to be embarrassed. You are a maturing young woman and I am sure you are curious. But I just want you to be patient. Sex is not something to jump into lightly. I wish I were having this conversation with you in person. I would not consider myself a prude, and you know we don't hold you to any strict religious standpoint on the subject, but I do worry that you have been put into a position where you might feel pressured. I can tell that you have feelings for this professor of yours, and it is completely natural. You are of an age where your hormones are beginning to make themselves known and I know your curious mind is always impatient to learn new things._

_But he is your Profess or, Hermione. You cannot forget that. It is easy to let such things fall by the way when there's a war at hand, but it does make a difference. He is far too old for you and far too cunning. That is not to say that you are not intelligent enough, my dear, but that men often take advantage of the naiveté of young women and I don't want that to happen to you. I know this from experience, Hermione, so I hope you will consider what I say. Please, do not get involved with your professor. Have patience. When this war is over, you will find a suitable young man who is your equal and who is worthy of you. I only want what is best for you, darling. I hope you understand that._

_As always, with all my love, and Daddy's too,_

_Mum_

Hermione stared down at the paper, horrified.  _Was it really that obvious?_  She groaned aloud and fell back against the mattress. "Merlin." Well, in any case, her fears were confirmed. Her mother believed exactly what Hermione had expected her to believe about Severus, and that was unlikely to change.  _Of course, when the War is over, everything will be different,_  she told herself. But was that really true? This War was just short of fantasy to her parents. It might as well not exist, but for the fear they felt for their daughter. Would anything really change when it was over?

A sudden angry yell made Hermione jump out of bed, wand in hand. "Fred!" she heard Ron scream. "George! I'll kill you for this one!"

She dashed out of her room and down the stairs to find Ron standing on the last step and a ring of Weasleys before him, laughing. "What happened?" she demanded.

"Hermione!" Ron saw her at last. "Thank the gods! You'll have to do it. You're the only girl here that isn't family."

"Do what?" she muttered, confused.

"Ah Ronny," said one of the twins, "It figures you would be the first victim."

"And a lively spectacle you're making of it, too."

"We did say there'd be mischief."

"But then again, there's  _always_  mischief with us, isn't there?"

"You really can't call yourself surprised."

Ron's face was red with fury. "Take it down!"

"Not a chance." The twins answered together.

Hermione followed their gaze to the ceiling and comprehension finally fell over her. Mistletoe. And not just any mistletoe; Fred-and-George-tampered mistletoe.  _Oh no._  "I can't," she heard herself saying. "Let… I dunno… Ginny…"

"Are you  _crazy!?_  I'm not going to kiss my  _sister!_ "

"Ronald, you know I can't," she whispered.

"It's alright," George told her, "he can stay there for a bit."

"Yeah," agreed Fred, "he could be a Christmas decoration with the red he's turning and that green sweater."

"You're not really going to leave me here?" Ron met her eyes, and Hermione's heart sank. She supposed she really would have to kiss him, but it would only be a very little kiss. And anyway, Severus could hardly reproach her for that, especially considering the way he'd been treating her.

"Fine. Alright. I'll do it. But you lot have to go away first."

"Not a chance," echoed the Weasley twins, folding their arms across their chest. Ginny grinned wickedly up at her and even Harry was content to watch, cruel satisfaction dancing on his lips.

Hermione gave them each a hard glare, but realized that resistance was futile at this point. "Fine." Gathering her courage about her, she stepped under the mistletoe with Ron. In his eyes, she could see that he was already past panic and looking rather smug. This had better not be a set up. Finally, taking a deep breath, she reached up on her tiptoes and planted a light kiss against his mouth. The magic released them immediately and they stumbled off the stair. But other than that, she felt nothing.

The group cheered as Hermione wiped her mouth off on her sleeve and Ron looked somehow triumphant. She glared at him. Didn't he recall Severus's reaction the last time he'd suspected something between the two of them?

The group began to head toward the kitchen and Hermione followed. But just as she was about to cross over the threshold, Sirius Black emerged. Her heart leapt up into her throat at his sudden appearance and then sank with dread as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione," he said, "may I have a word?"

 _Damn._ She'd been avoiding him for days; fairly successfully, too. But he was determined.  _Oh gods,_  she didn't know what to say to him. She wasn't ready for this. "S-Sure…" she heard herself answer, for want of any excuse. He smiled down at her; a warm smile that made her sad somehow.

Sirius led her into the Study and closed the door, warding it behind them. Even that was enough to put Hermione on edge, but she felt safer for having her wand. "I'm sure you can imagine what this is about," he remarked drily in an attempt at humor. She didn't as much as smile. "Look," he began again, gesturing for them to sit down on the long couch, "I just want you to know that I don't blame you at all for turning me in to Albus."  _What?_  "I feel terrible about… what happened. And I want to apologize to you. There is no excuse for what I did. But I do want to explain myself because I'd hate for you to go on thinking that I simply took advantage of you. Which I did," he hastened to clarify in answer to her raised eyebrow. "But… I just want you to understand."

He took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself for what he had to say. "I've thought a lot about that morning and what went wrong. And my first error was in forgetting how young and inexperienced you are. It is hard for me, having been shut away for more than a decade, to remember how innocent you lot are. And that I am not really part of your little group. Hell, I still call Harry 'James' from time to time." He laughed softly and some of the tension seemed to ease from his shoulders. "But that is still no excuse. No excuse at all. I wanted to treat you right and show you what a beautiful experience sex can be, but that all went out the window when you started moaning into my mouth.  _Merlin,_  I can't imagine how I must have scared you. I completely lost control, partially because I never expected anything to happen at all. It had been over a decade since I'd had any… contact… with a woman… at all. And even now, I'm locked away, with Tonks as my only regular female visitor, and she's my cousin. And anyway, you are a very attractive young woman, and so smart that it's easy to forget how young you are."

"Even if I were older, you should have backed away the moment I told you to stop."

Sirius blanched. "Yes, I know. I know. You're right. I know I should have. It was just… I was… incoherent… and the night before... you seemed so affectionate. You didn't push me away when I touched you. And when I woke up with you in my arms, I just… It was like sensory overload. I never should have kissed you." There was an awkward moment in which Hermione was not sure how to respond. "But then you kissed me back. And you… well you were… quite enthusiastic. You seemed so…  _eager._ " The flash of lust in his eyes made Hermione shiver.

"Sirius…" she hesitated, unsure of what to say. "I wasn't even fully awake, yet."

"I know, but it wasn't as if you were asleep. I mean… Hermione… you were… very  _actively_ involved with what was going on."

Hermione huffed in frustration. "I realize that. But I hadn't even registered… what was going on… I mean I still sort of thought it was a dream."

"Do you usually have such vivid dreams?" His voice was part skepticism, part vulgar curiosity.

"I… not exactly…"

Sirius scoffed disbelievingly. "Anyway, I was so overwhelmed and completely convinced that you were eager to… reciprocate… and again, not even thinking about how young and innocent you are… that I just… lost control. But Hermione, I really am truly sorry. I have wished that I could take it back, because I hate to think that I have hurt you, somehow. You know, Harry isn't the only one of you I care about. And especially after everything you've done for me… I owe you my life, Hermione. It kills me to think I may have… broken our friendship, as it were."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "Don't think that, Sirius." That was not what she wanted. And having heard his apology, she realized that she would be able to forgive the old Marauder, given everything they'd been through. He was a good man, at the end of the day, and it could have been far worse, after all. "I am glad that you apologized. I do understand why you did what you did, but I am glad that you recognize now that it was still wrong."

"Yes. I do. I really, really do."

She sighed again. An apology didn't erase the fact that it had happened, but she did feel better knowing that he realized his mistake. "Good," she told him, wearily. "Then I really think I would prefer for us just to put this whole thing behind us."

Sirius let out a relieved breath and smiled down at her. "Thank you," he told her, affectionately. "You are remarkably mature for your age, you know."

She just smiled back, unsure how to respond.

"Perhaps we should return to the others." Sirius stood with a grunt and held out a hand to help Hermione to her feet. "Do you suppose a hug would be inappropriate?"

Hermione hesitated, glancing between his welcoming arms. Maybe it would do no harm. "I suppose not," she told him, stepping into his embrace. There was something so avuncular about the gesture that the rest of Hermione's doubts fell away. He simply cared about her. And, truth be told, she cared about him too.

…*~*J*~*…

"Yaxley's appointment is certainly a bad omen."

"A bad  _omen_?" Severus glared his frustration at Albus. "If this were a Chess match, our King would be in Check."

"Oh, I do not think it is as serious as that, Severus. He is only the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, after all. As long as our Minister is merely Imperiused and not truly a follower of Voldemort, there is hope for the recovery of our government."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Might I ask how exactly we are planning to accomplish that?"

"By destroying Voldemort. Of course." He wished the old man would stop using that name.

"It is heartening to see that we have a plan."

"There is enough negativity in this world, Severus, without your bitter assessments." The Headmaster peered over his eyeglasses at the younger man with something akin to accusation glittering in his eyes. "I have dispatched Hagrid to reunite with his kin and Horace has promised to put me in touch with the Vampires, but Remus insists he has made no progress with the Werewolves and Firenze tells me that the Centaurs are not likely to choose sides."

"So we're assembling an army. It will not be enough, Albus, you know that. What are we doing to prepare the  _boy?_  And what of—Granger? Clearly she has some part to play as well. We need to discover what exactly that might be."

"I understand your concern, Severus, but we are doing all we can. In the meantime, it would be best if you used this holiday to distance yourself from the girl. Perhaps that will help you to remember that  _she_  is not our  _Cause_ , and sometimes what you  _want_  is not necessarily the best overall."

…*~*J*~*…

It was getting dark when Severus emerged from the Headmaster's office, fuming with barely-constricted rage. Clearly it wasn't enough that he risked his life for the Order every day. No, he must needs sacrifice his  _every_  joy to the Cause,  _and_  be interrogated along the way. Was his dedication not obvious enough as it was?

His nearly silent footfalls were consumed by the aching emptiness of the castle as he swept away in anger. Suddenly the solitude was stifling. All the vast hollow halls of Hogwarts could not liberate him from the fire of his fury and he found himself desperate for freedom. So he took a different turn toward a familiar escape and soon burst forth into the gusty evening air atop the Astronomy Tower.

But he was not alone. No sooner had he taken much needed gulps of air than a head of blonde hair suddenly appeared in his peripheral. "Miss Lovegood," he blurted out, taken off guard, "shouldn't you be headed back to your Common Room by now? It's nearly curfew."

The petite blonde brought her eye from the telescope she had been using and looked at her Professor. "Sorry, sir," she told him, dreamily, "I wasn't looking at a clock. Time has a funny way of changing, doesn't it?"

Severus was not sure what to say, but the girl had a knack for making him uncomfortably off balance. "One would think you might notice the lateness of the hour, given that you were staring into the darkening sky."

"One would think," she agreed. "But it's like my Mum always used to say, sometimes it's hardest to see what's right in front of us. Your nose for instance."

"My…  _nose?_ " He was immediately alerted to a possible offense.

"Yes. You can always see it, you know. Only, you usually don't."

 _Oh._  "I see."

"Sometimes you need a little help." She turned back toward the telescope and brought it to her eye. "They use mirrors, you know. The telescopes."  _Huh?_ "It's funny isn't it? The thing we use to look at planets that are very far away is the same as the one we use to look at our own faces. As the Universe, so the Soul." She stepped down and smiled up at him. "And we wouldn't be able to see either one of them without it."

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione stared across the room where a cauldron of Wolfsbane once sat steaming on the dresser. Severus had slept here the morning after Halloween, she recalled. She'd seen it in his memories. Why had he chosen this room, when he had a bedroom of his own here? Perhaps it was only to avoid dragging himself up three more flights of stairs. Or perhaps…

Ginny had asked her to move into this room for the night, so that she could be with Harry. To be honest, Hermione was happy to have an excuse to do so. She preferred the solitude, but she also took comfort from the memory of Severus brewing potions in here. It was almost as if this was  _their_  room.

But he wasn't here.

Sighing deeply, Hermione pulled herself out of bed and made her way down to the kitchen. It was early; too early for the peaceful inhabitants of Grimmauld Place to be waking. But Hermione had always been a restless soul. She was cracking eggs into a frying pan when a soft "Morning," met her ears. She had not heard him come in.

"Good morning," she returned sleepily. Harry poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and took a place at the table facing the stove. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Nightmares," he admitted after a fractional hesitation.

Hermione looked around in time to see him rubbing his scar. "What about?"

It was immediately apparent that he did not want to tell her.

"Come on, Harry," she encouraged softly, starting a pot of water for tea, "you don't need to keep all of that to yourself, you know. We're a team."

"I know." He sighed with deep frustration. "Right, well, it was about Voldemort. Actually, it was about the first time I saw him; in the Mirror of Erised. Only, then I was looking through his eyes into the Mirror. And I wasn't in it anymore." He paused in thought and met her eyes. "He saw me gone."

Hermione hid her concern by turning back to the eggs she was tending, but his words struck a chord somewhere deep inside her. It felt like fear.

"Actually, Hermione," he began again, after a moment, "I've been wanting to talk to you about something. It's hard to get a moment alone here. I noticed you stopped avoiding Sirius."

Hermione spun around to face her friend in surprise. "What—what do you mean?"

He only smirked half-heartedly up at her. "You know, I haven't forgotten that comment you made about sleeping with him. Ginny told us that you only meant you had fallen asleep together, but that's not really the whole truth, is it?"

There was a moment of silence in which Harry stared at her accusingly and Hermione tried not to give anything away as she sought an answer to his impossible question. "I-I haven't had sex with him, if that's what you mean." She waited for him to respond, but he kept his penetrating gaze focused on her in silence. "It-it is true that he fell asleep with me. It was a complete accident."  _Oh gods,_  she really didn't want him to know the full story. Sirius was something of a role model for Harry, and his only family. Much as the man deserved it, she couldn't bring herself to be the one to snatch off Harry's rose-colored glasses and show him that his godfather wasn't perfect.

Just then, the door burst open and two bedraggled Weasley twins immediately filled the little room with their chatter.

"We're bound to get  _somebody_."

"D'you reckon it'll be the whole Order, or just a few?"

"Even if it's not, the ones that matter will come for sure."

"The ones that matter to  _you_. I want to see somebody kiss  _Snape_."

Harry snorted pumpkin juice all over the table, causing a round of ruckus laughter from the other boys.

"See? Harry here thinks it's funny."

"Oi, Hermione, are you going to be the one to kiss him, too?" George buckled over in fits of giggles as Fred swaggered over to her side.

"No, Hermione's already got herself somebody, isn't that so?"

His words made her heart leap up into her throat with panic and she didn't know how to respond. "W-what?"

"Ooohoo," George chuckled, "is it supposed to be a secret?"

"We aren't as dumb as we look."

"We catch onto certain… things."

"Like… why is it you couldn't kiss Ronnikins?"

"You told him yourself that he knew why you couldn't."

"Yeah, so unless you've got some sort of allergy to men…"

"Which we know you don't, since you kissed our brother…"

"Which, come to think of it, doesn't actually rule that out…"

"You must've got yourself a boyfriend."

"I do  _not_  have a  _boyfriend,"_  Hermione reassured them.

"Well then, I hope you have a really good excuse, because otherwise… we're not buying it."

Just then, Mrs. Weasley burst through the door and all talk of boyfriends dissolved into one little whispered 'We'll talk later.'

…*~*J*~*…

Severus hated to admit that he was looking forward to the Order meeting, if only for the chance to see Granger. But it was true. They'd only been apart about a week, but already her absence had become tangible. It was remarkable what a difference one girl could make in the life of a sour old Potions Master. And yet, he'd never underestimate Hermione's power over anything where he was concerned. He imagined the look on her face when she saw him; imagined getting her alone and holding her tight against him. Not in any sort of perverted way, although he did have to admit to latent sexual energy devoted to the girl regardless of his repression. Honestly, he just wanted to hold her close and know that she was safe and in his arms. He never wanted to let her go.

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione had been sitting on the steps that led down to the basement kitchen for three quarters of an hour, and still no sign of him. The Trio had been excluded, naturally, but she would be damned if she'd miss Severus's visit entirely.

In her earlier years, Hermione had discovered that spending time with the Weasleys inevitably made her miss her own family. The cheery and loving atmosphere was almost stifling, and though she was always included, Hermione always longed for more. Her parents had never been as ostentatious in their affection, but she always knew it to be sincere and as deeply rooted as one could possibly ask for. It was for that reason that she began to crave their company every holiday she spent in the Wizarding World.

But this year was different. She missed her parents, to be sure, but there was something different. Spending time with her friends had been lovely, of course, but she felt incomplete, as she used to feel. This time, however, she longed for the company of someone entirely different. To be honest, she felt alone without him.

Suddenly, the door banged open, and Hermione jumped to her feet as Order members began lazily filtering out of the kitchen. She was two feet away from the door when Severus emerged, meeting her eye for a fraction of a second. And then he was gone, sweeping down the hallway before she could as much as call his name.

And the door to Grimmauld Place opened and closed. And that was that. She was alone, once more.


	48. Chapter 48

The End. That was his goal. To his left was the Light. To his right was the Darkness. And all he had to do was keep his balance on the narrow path until he reached the end.

But that was all he could see; staring straight ahead at that ultimate goal; the only thing that gave him hope. It didn't matter what happened when he reached that end. It would all be over. He would finally be able to rest.

But the streaming light on his left seemed to push him away and the darkness seemed to pull him towards it. And he soon became disoriented and unsure which way was up and down. He began to stagger, losing his balance. But just as his weight left his feet and his arms flailed helplessly, his focus on the end finally broke. And he saw  _her_  there beside him, glowing faintly. Reaching for him with a secret smile.

He reached for her. And she pulled him back onto the path.

And they continued on together, hand in hand.

Finally, he felt grounded.

And he knew he would not fall.

…*~*J*~*…

_Dear Mum,_

Hermione stared down at those two words; her mind as blank as the parchment. Reluctantly, she dipped her quill in the ink well.

_I am glad to hear that you like the house. Bill and Fleur are really nice._

She scoffed down at the parchment and promptly smashed it into a ball, tossing it into the bin with the others.

_Dear Mum,_

She cracked her knuckles and let out a long sigh.

_Thank you for being so understanding about this difficult situation. I know it was really short notice, but it really is for the best. It sounds like he found a nice place for you to stay, though, so that is a positive I suppose._

Hermione took a deep breath. Well, that was the easy part. "Now I just have to reassure her that she's completely wrong about everything she got completely right. No problem." She chewed her lip for a minute before putting her quill back to the paper.

_I know that you want what is best for me, Mum, and I appreciate your advice. Professor Snape and I are partners, of a sort. Believe me, neither of us chose to be paired together, but it has turned out better than I imagined. There are a lot of things that I cannot tell you because of strict (and magically enforced) confidentiality, but I have every reason to believe that he has no malicious intentions towards me. He has shown me a great deal of respect since we began working together, and it was actually his idea to send you into hiding. He had reason to believe you were in danger._

_Do not worry about me, Mum. My first priority is the War and the survival of my loved ones. My second is school and my upcoming N.E.W.T.S. I have no time to pursue anyone romantically or welcome any more complications into my life. Besides, you know how I feel about rule-breaking._

She supposed it was pointless to deny having feelings for Severus. Her mother knew her far too well.

_I will ask about possibly visiting you, but I cannot promise that they will let me. It is complicated. Please try to enjoy your stay there, though. It sounds really nice. Just look at it like a long vacation._

_All my love,_

_Hermione._

…*~*J*~*…

Severus methodically chopped the sausages with his fork until they were tiny little pieces and then listlessly stirred them into his eggs, more concerned with distributing them evenly than with actually eating his breakfast. He had never really gotten into the holiday spirit, so to say, but he used to enjoy the peace and quiet that came with the departure of 95% of the student population. This year, however, it was different. Something was wrong. The solitude felt heavy as if something were dragging him down and siphoning away his spirit.

Not that he worried about such things as  _spirits._

"Are you breaking your fast or brewing a potion?" Minerva's knowing eyes met his and he set his fork down in defiance.

"I've had enough of these Hogwarts sausages to last me a lifetime," he returned with disdain.

Her answering smile unnerved him. "I quite agree with you, Severus. And these eggs cannot compare to, say, Molly Weasley's, for example."

Severus narrowed his eyes at the older woman. He'd been a spy too long not to sense her trap. "Is that so?"

"Oh, Severus, relax," she teased, batting his arm. "Do you truly suppose that I am so far out of the loop?" A glance down the table assured him that no one was close enough to overhear their conversation. As usual, Albus had felt the need to bring everyone (teachers and dunderheads alike) together at one big table in the middle of the Great Hall. Thankfully, however,  _most_  Hogwarts residents liked to sleep  _in_  during their holiday. Of course, Severus would have slept later, himself, but he hadn't been able to get back to sleep after the eerie dream he'd had last night.

"I didn't realize you and the Weasley Matriarch were such close acquaintances."

"Don't be daft. Naturally, we've had correspondence over the years. After all, every one of her children has been in my House. The twins alone were reason enough to confer with her. She makes a delicious apple tart." She paused, her eyes slanting to his. "I imagine Grimmauld Place will be full of desserts."

Severus was momentarily taken aback, and then suspicious. "Tell me, Minerva, are you harboring some holiday nostalgia? Do you really think that pushing me into that dingy doghouse with  _Black_  at Christmas will give me a chance to make  _amends?_ "

She had the nerve to laugh at that. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Well, I can see no other reason for your unsubtle hints in that direction."

Minerva suddenly became very serious and met his eye. "Can't you?"

He didn't know how to answer that.

"Severus," she began again, hesitantly, "you are unhappy."

Severus snorted ironically.

"Don't you undermine me, Severus Snape. Do you honestly believe that I do not know what is happening? That Albus has not felt the need to fill me in?"

Severus's patience was wearing thin. "To what, precisely, are you referring, Minerva?" he growled.

Apparently, the older witch's patience was equally depleted, if the sudden set of her jaw was any indication. "I am  _referring_ …" she huffed, "to Hermione Granger."

_What._

When he did not respond, his colleague placed a hand on his wrist. "Severus," she implored gently as he snatched his arm away, "You may think I'm not exactly the voice of experience, when it comes to love."  _Love?! Bloody hell!_ "But I assure you, my experience is the reason I felt I must speak with you about her. Love is a terrible thing to lose. Cherish it. As long as you have it. Circumstances may be difficult, but if you can overcome them, you _must_  find a way to do so."

The practiced spy could only stare agape at the woman seated next to him. For once, he was completely caught off guard.

"You should not be alone this holiday, Severus," Minerva told him. "We are at war." She patted him on the wrist again as she stood to leave. "And time is precious."

…*~*J*~*…

_The contract may be transferred to another by means of a complex ceremonial procedure (description below). The cost may be determined by the two negotiating parties completely independent of the original payment. However, a slave wishing to purchase his or her freedom must pay the original price._

Hermione stared down at the page. Using her word search spell, she'd found a section describing her own Curse in a book about magical contracts. Until now, she'd been convinced that defeating the dark lord would free her. This new information came as a dull, heavy shock. If that was the case, she would never be free. The original price had been her life.

"Hey!"

Hermione's head jerked up at Tonks' voice out in the hallway. She'd been waiting for the other witch all day.

"What's the meaning of this?"

Sticking her head out of the library, Hermione saw that Tonks had been snared by another of Fred and George's Mischievous Mistletoes and was currently engaged in an epic struggle with the magical bonds gluing her feet to the floor.

"Well, this is a new one, no denying. Though, it usually  _is_  my feet that cause the trouble."

"Tonks!" Ginny laughed, stopping herself from running to the pink-haired witch. "Uh oh, Fred! George! You're in for it, now!"

"Shoulda known this was their doing," Tonks said, twisting her torso the best she could to look at the others. Hermione wondered how she'd gotten stuck facing  _toward_  the door, if she'd just arrived.

Just then, Fred and George barreled into the hallway, laughing. Ron and Harry were right behind them. "Tonks!"

"Tripped into our trap, have you?"

"Well that's one accident that won't land you on your arse."

"Depending who you kiss, of course."

Tonks smirked deviously at them. "Remus is going to murder the two of you. You're lucky it's his time of the month, or I'd bring him with me to dinner tonight." She raised an eyebrow in reproach, before allowing her devious smirk to return. "Right then, over here, one of you, and pucker up."

Fred and George immediately turned toward each other and held out their fists. "Cauldron, parchment, sword," they said together.

"Damn," George groaned as Fred swaggered over to Tonks.

"Alright," she told him, 'but you've got to close your eyes." And as he did so, her mouth became a pig snout and she gave him a sloppy nuzzle before he yelped and jerked away. The others burst into laughter as poor Fred wiped his mouth off and Tonks happily stepped free of the twins' trap. "Thought you were the only sneaky devils 'round here?" She shook her head and made for the exit. "Well, I'd best be going. Just had to make a delivery, but I've got more errands to run before they let me eat. See you in a bit."

"Wait!" Hermione hurried to her side, withdrawing the letter she had written to her mother. "I was hoping you could give this to my mom when you see her next," she said in a whisper. "And don't let my dad see."

"A-okay," Tonks told her with a smile, "That's my next stop, as it happens."

"Thank you so much."

"No problemo. See you at dinner." Facing the others, Tonks waved enthusiastically before winking at Hermione and turning back toward the door. She made it three more stepped before it flew open with a bang and Severus Snape stood there in the doorway. There may have been a collective gasp. Or it may have only been Hermione. But suddenly her heart was pounding hard in her throat and she met his eye.

"You're late, Snape," Tonks told him, after a moment. "Two minutes earlier and you coulda kissed me."

Severus's lip turned up in cruel disdain. "How very unfortunate," he drawled. Hermione was frozen to the spot, suddenly noticing a suitcase in his hand. She couldn't breathe.

For an awkward moment, everything seemed to stand still. Then Tonks stepped aside, gesturing for the tall wizard to pass, and Severus gave her the tiniest nod as he did so, sweeping past Hermione and the others and ascending the stairs before Tonks had even turned to leave. "Welp," she said, breaking the awkward silence, "better be off. See you at dinner." With that, she spun around and promptly tripped over the umbrella stand and right out the door. "I'm okay!" she shouted as an afterthought before the door closed behind her.

"Whatya reckon Snape's doing here," George asked.

"Suitcase and everything," Fred added.

Hermione was silent, but felt the solid weight of her friends' gaze on her as she hoped she knew exactly why he'd come.

…*~*J*~*…

"What am I doing?" Severus paced the little room on the third floor. This had been a huge mistake. He didn't belong here. He wasn't part of this group. He was an outsider. And the only reason he had come here at all had been for  _her._

Hermione.  _Oh gods._  She looked so beautiful, even in a simple jumper and Muggle jeans, with her riotous curls dancing about in disarray and those perfect lips parted in sudden shock.

"Ridiculous!" She was a schoolgirl and her feelings for him did not change that fact. Nor did it redeem his actions when it was obvious that he was nothing more than a desperate old man, clinging to the one person who had ever shown him human affection (or at least, in the past twenty years).

But that wasn't true. She wasn't the only person in the world who cared for him. Minerva had shown him affection just that morning, and several of the other Hogwarts professors would likely call themselves his friends. And it wasn't just the fact that she was young and beautiful. After all, as Miss Parkinson had proved, there were young and beautiful women out there who would make themselves available to him if that was what he wanted. So, was this just the combination of the two? Was she merely a friend who showed him deep affection and gratified his sexual desires?

No.

Hermione Granger was much more than that and the mere suggestion repulsed him. He was letting the conversation with her parents bother him far too much. And he'd told himself all of this several times already. But seeing her with her little friends made him feel so out of place, and Severus had to convince himself once more that this was what he wanted. Determined, once again, he pushed open the door to his bedroom and flew down the stairs.

He found them in the kitchen, picking at a plate of tarts. Severus immediately remembered Minerva's comment about Molly's tarts and had a sudden desire to taste one, purely out of curiosity. Only, the plate of tarts somehow seemed out of reach, as if they weren't his to try.

"I am sure you are all wondering why I am here," he began in his most authoritative tone. Potter and the four Weasleys simply stared up at him, chewing. But Hermione seemed intent on catching his eye; the intensity of her gaze apparent even from his peripheral. "Loathe as I am to disturb your holiday with lessons, I am of the audacious opinion that furthering your Occlumency training is of greater import than growing fat on Christmas treats." Potter and his favorite Weasley boy exchanged a look, and Severus was afraid even to see Hermione's reaction. "Come," he told them, "we will begin at once."

"Now?" Weasley sputtered around the tart he'd just stuffed into his mouth.

"Did you have some prior engagement?" Severus countered. The boys looked at each other in terror before turning back to him with no defense. "Yes, now. You've wasted enough of my time."

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione headed determinedly toward the stairs; then turned at the last moment, full of doubt. Their Occlumency lesson had been brutal. None of them had done their meditations and all of them had been caught off guard. Luckily, Severus hadn't seen Hermione's memory of her mother's letter. That would have been devastating.  _I should go to him,_  she told herself again, turning back towards the stairs.  _But what will I say?_ She turned away again.  _I could show him the book I found_. That was a perfect excuse! And Hermione seized onto it and darted toward the stairs.  _But…_ she hesitated,  _that's not likely to put him in a good mood._  Hermione bit her lip and headed away from the stairs once more.  _I'll see him at dinner, anyway,_ she thought.  _But I won't be able to talk to him, alone. We really ought to talk this out._  Decided, she turned back to the stairs and marched stubbornly towards them.

"Hermione," Harry's voice called softly.

With a sigh, she halted her steps and turned to the boy, ignoring the look of contrition upon his face. "What?" she demanded. It was clear from his shy expression that he knew what she was up to, but he made no mention of it.

"Dinner's ready," he told her. "I'm supposed to tell Snape, too, but… maybe you want to do that, instead?"

Hermione blinked at him. "Sure," she told him, the bluster gone from her tone, and he gave her shoulder a squeeze before heading back down to the kitchen.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned finally to climb the stairs.

She stared at his door for a long moment, wondering if he would treat her differently once they were alone, and fearing that he would not. Stuffing away her doubts, Hermione raised her fist and knocked.

"What?" his angry voice rang out.

Hermione was suddenly very glad she hadn't come just to talk to him. "Dinner's ready," she murmured through the door, sliding her finger along the crack and imagining the man on the other side.

The door opened abruptly and Hermione took a step backward in surprise. "Oh," was all he said.

For a long moment, the two studied each other in silence. Something needed to be said, but neither seemed sure how to proceed. Then, suddenly, Hermione was overcome with happiness just to have him there with her again. It had been creeping up on her all day, but now that they were alone, her loneliness seemed to be lifted away. And before she knew what she was doing, she'd closed the distance between them and slipped her arms around his waist. He stumbled backwards, clutching onto her in surprise, but responded with nothing more than a gasp of shock. "I missed you," she told him sincerely, pressing her cheek against his chest. And there was a long moment in which he seemed like to pull away, but she refused to let him.

Then, in a breath, his arms were tight around her; one twisting in her hair, the other curving around her waist and crushing her against his powerful frame. But the strength in his embrace was at odds with the tenderness with which his fingers stroked her scalp. And she felt his nose nuzzle into her hair, breathing in her scent. "Hermione," he moaned softly and she whimpered, turning her face to his. There was such depth of feeling in those dark eyes, and Hermione felt herself melting against him as, with smoldering reverence, he brought his lips to her forehead. She had never felt so cherished.

"Oh. Sorry."

The pair immediately broke apart in shock and spun around to see Ron Weasley at the top of the stairs. The air itself seemed to freeze as they all calculated each others' responses, and nobody seemed to move.

"Did you have news to impart?" Severus asked the boy in his most derisive tone.

"I…Um," Ron sputtered, "dinner's ready… We've been waiting."

...*~*J*~*…

Remus Lupin's absence had thrown off the regular seating arrangements, leaving Hermione awkwardly placed between Ron and Severus. Sirius had taken his usual place at the head of the table, with Harry and Ginny to his right, but Mr. Weasley had taken Remus's place to his left and Mrs. Weasley sat next to him. Ron was beside his sister and across from Tonks. Fred and George had taken their places next to the metamorphmagus (and who knows what they might have been plotting with that move). And that left Hermione squished between Severus and Ron and across from the too-keen twins.

Ron's interruption earlier had undone all of the good Hermione had accomplished with her bold step into Severus's arms. The man was just as moody and aloof as ever, responding to any comments with the barest noncommittal grunts he could muster. It was infuriating.

It was for this reason that she got the idea to see just how far she could push him with the Weasley twins there to discourage any outward reaction. She began very simply, by bumping her knee against his. He stilled immediately, but only for the barest instant. Then, he was attacking his potatoes with the same calculated disinterest as before, and she might have imagined his reaction entirely.

She brought her knee back to his and rubbed it up and down in a lazy, sensual gesture. Severus cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, subtly bumping her with his elbow in a not-so-subtle hint to cease and desist. She couldn't help the wide smirk that spread across her face when he crossed his legs, effectively taking his knee out of her reach. Well, two could play at that game.

Slowly, carefully, she slid her left foot out of her shoe and crossed her legs. Focusing very hard on finishing the last of her buttered bread, she brought her toes to the inside of his right ankle and slowly trailed a line up his calf. When she reached his inner thigh, he knocked her away by uncrossing his legs and met her eye with a sharp glare. She covered her laugh with a cough, but the others didn't seem to have noticed. They were all intently listening to Tonks as she relayed a personal account of Auror training that Hermione was sure must be hilarious. She didn't care. She took advantage of their distraction to boldly uncross her legs and swing the right one over Severus's knee. His nearly silent intake of breath was worth every effort she had made thus far, as she could tell that she had finally broken through his shield.

"Stop," he told her in a low voice that drew no attention. Before she could even register surprise or annoyance at that response, her leg had returned to its original position beside the other, where it belonged. For a moment, she believed he hadn't meant to command her, but as the silence drew longer, she knew that wasn't true. The gentle clicking of his fork against the porcelain dish was cruel disinterest. And she resented the casual way with which he threw her off. Why was he ruining this? Why was he being so cold toward her? And how could she make it stop?

…*~*J*~*…

That night, Hermione couldn't seem to get comfortable in her little bed. The memories of  _him_  were so much more vivid while he was in this very house. It would be so easy to creep out of bed and go to him. Imagining that, she realized that she had never seen the inside of his bedroom, here. They had always met  _here_ , in the room she now occupied. And it was here that he first came to her.

She rolled onto her back, remembering his hesitance that first time. They had both been so nervous, but she hadn't realized until later just how much he'd hated himself for it. Maybe he'd never quite gotten over that.

Hermione rubbed her knees together. She couldn't sleep. Her body was humming with energy at the mere thought of his proximity. Somehow, she knew that only  _he_  could help her find peace.

 _Maybe I should go to him._  It was tempting. But then she remembered how he had answered her earlier; angrily. And then he had held her close and kissed her on the forehead. And wasn't that worth the risk that he would be mean?

But then… what if he was asleep? Severus Snape was a busy man, and stressed out enough as it was. He needed his sleep, and it was selfish of her to want to take it away from him. Then again… she did have a nifty ring that let her send him messages. She could just send him one itsy, bitsy message.

_Are you asleep?_

Sudden excitement coursed through her veins, making her back arch against the mattress with impatient enthusiasm. Her heart fluttered desperately in her chest as she waited for his response.

And waited for his response.

And waited for his response.

Maybe he would surprise her and just come straight down to her bedroom. Maybe he would throw open the door and cover her with his enormous frame. She clung to that image and slipped a hand between her legs, rubbing away the tension that was building there. Severus knew how to coax that tension into flames and have it explode. He was an artist with his hands. But Hermione had no experience bringing herself to orgasm, and her clumsy fumbling between her legs did nothing to assuage her increasing frustration.

She was helpless without him.


	49. Chapter 49

When Severus finally decided that he could not hide away in his room any longer, the only person left in the basement kitchen was Black. His immediate reaction was the familiar twisting dread of being cornered alone with his arch nemesis, but then he remembered the memory he'd seen in Hermione's mind and rage welled up inside him.

But he could not attack Black. He had no excuse without exposing his connection to the girl and he'd be damned if he'd open that topic up for the ex-con's scrutiny.  _Fuck!_  The man deserved to be beaten senseless for what he'd done to Hermione. He deserved to die.

And if Black ever gave him a reason, he'd be happy to oblige.

Instead, he merely poured himself a mug of tea and filled a plate with cold leftovers, seating himself at the opposite end of the table from the mutt and withdrawing a parchment, quill and ink. He was so absorbed with his scribbling that he did not immediately notice her arrival.

"Hermione!" Black exclaimed, causing Severus's head to snap up to the girl in the doorway.

"Morning Sirius," she murmured sleepily, skirting her way around the table to the stove as the other man made as if to go to her. "Morning, Professor." She was wearing a soft, Muggle tee and sweat pants of a sort beneath a scarlet dressing gown, and it was all too apparent that she had not bothered wearing undergarments. Severus felt himself immediately grow hard and anger filled him at the thought that Black was likely having a similar reaction.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged in a sour voice as she slipped out of her dressing gown and draped it over the chair across from him. "Are you not cold?" He gestured to her bare feet, but the question was actually prompted by the sharp points of her nipples pressing through the thin fabric of her night shirt.

She gave him a funny look. "It feels pretty toasty in here to me."

He met her eyes and watched with satisfaction as her face flushed.  _Ah._  So  _that_  was it. Severus adjusted his position, now quite uncomfortably erect. Perhaps he should have responded to her message the night before.

As Hermione filled a plate with food, Severus caught himself staring at her and turned, abashed, only to see Black gaping equally intently at the soft swell of her little arse. He bit back a growl. When the girl set her plate directly across from him, he felt a flash of triumph and glanced at the head of the table to see Black's reaction. But the man was far too busy staring at Hermione's pert breasts to register the slight. Severus glared. "Put your robe back on," he told her in a low growl, and though she glared at him in vexation, she did not hesitate to obey.

"What are you writing?" she asked when he returned his attention to the parchment, satisfied that Black could no longer see her soft, young body.

"Instructions."

She huffed impatiently and he had to suppress a smirk. "Instructions  _for what?_ "

He met her gaze intently. "Wolfsbane."

Her little mouth fell open in shock. "You're writing it out  _from memory?_ " He did not dignify that question with a response, choosing instead to turn back to his writing with a sneer. "But if you know it from memory," she began again in a hesitant voice, seeming to understand at last, "why do you need to write it down?"

He looked up at her again, relishing this moment of holding exciting information just out of her reach. "For you, of course."

The girl practically lit up with excitement. "You're going to teach me to brew Wolfsbane!?"

"Obviously." And she was probably the only person he knew who would be excited by that.

Hermione took her now empty plate to the sink and moved to sit beside him, sipping her tea and staring down at the instructions as he wrote them. Her nearness made his concentration waver. He could smell her shampoo and the scent of sleep on her skin as the warmth of her soft body fell hot against his woolen clothes. Her legs were beneath her in the chair and she leant forward, uncomfortably close. The muscles in his arms weren't the only parts of him to tense at her nearness. But he continued to write, never once allowing such weakness to be seen.

"Why is it that sometimes a potion is stirred clockwise and sometimes counter-clockwise?" she asked him, pointing to the parchment. "And why is it sometimes you add one stir in the opposite direction?"

"A good question." He was rewarded for his praise with a beautiful smile that made his heart leap up into his throat, and he had to swallow before he could continue. "Traditionally, counter-clockwise stirring has been reserved for dark magic or potions that involve dark ingredients. Aconite, for example, is a poison. Clockwise stirring is the default for harmless ingredients. Although, I must add that there have been studies attempting to disprove this distinction (asserting that the choice in direction is based only in tradition with no true magical correlation), but no findings have been conclusive thus far.

"As for adding a stir in the opposite direction; I have found that many potions may be improved by doing this. Here, let me show you why." With a lazy gesture of his hand, a clear glass drifted over to the table and he filled it at once with cool water. Then, Summoning the sugar dish and a spoon, he poured a generous amount of sugar into the glass and began to stir it slowly clockwise. "Do you see how the sugar begins to swirl together at the bottom? The sugar particles conform to the repetition due to the Physics principle of Inertia. Over time, they will dissolve into the solution this way, but it is far more effective to isolate them, exposing more of their individual surface area. Watch." One counter-clockwise stir shook the surface of the water as the swirling sugar exploded in a puff, dancing chaotically within the solution. Then, separated and vulnerable, when he began to stir clockwise again, the sugar disappeared.

"Brilliant," she whispered in such a breathy voice that the cavity of Severus's chest swelled with pride. "That is so perfectly logical. It's such a simple solution."

Severus smirked over at her. "It is the very definition of a  _simple solution_ ," he said, clinking the spoon against the glass. Her answering laughter made his chest warm. How remarkable it was to have someone there who understood his jokes.

A groan of boredom interrupted their jesting as Black pulled himself out of his seat and cracked his back before swaggering out of the room. They watched him go, suddenly very aware that they were finally alone together, and it was with a mixture of reluctance and excitement that Severus turned back to Hermione.

She took a deep breath and he knew that this was it. The conversation he had been avoiding for weeks was on the verge of bursting from her lips. "Severus," she began in the softest, sweetest voice, and with the sound of his name on her lips all of his dread fled from him in a breath. It was foolish for him to distance himself from Hermione. She wasn't some naïve schoolgirl helplessly in love with the first man to show her physical pleasure. She was a brilliant, complex, mature, beautiful woman.

She was his partner.

Just then, the kitchen door swung open and Albus Dumbledore was there. Oh bloody buggering bollocks, could he  _not_  catch a  _break?_

"Severus," the old man began in an icily polite tone. "Miss Granger," he nodded to the girl who seemed just as guiltily thrown off guard, "I wonder if I might have a moment alone with your… professor."

Hermione was out of her chair in a heartbeat, scattered like sugar beneath the Headmaster's powerful, accusing gaze. "Certainly, Professor," she told him in a soft voice that would have seemed meek if not for the stubborn defiance in her cinnamon eyes.

The two men watched the girl leave; then Albus closed and warded the door behind her. "I have been searching everywhere for you." His accusation was clear.

"I told Minerva where I'd be."

"Ah, but you neglected to inform  _me._ "

"You were preoccupied with more important matters than worrying where I spent my holiday."

"In a game of chess, one does not simply  _misplace_  his bishop," the old man bit back, angrily.

"Maybe you should consider yourself lucky that your  _chess pieces_  have minds of their own and are capable of furthering your strategy without your involvement in every minute detail," Severus seethed. "I have continued with their Occlumency lessons and plan to teach Hermione to brew the Wolfsbane."

"Hermione?" The old man's voice was weary with disbelief and his gaze was pointed and accusing.

"Yes," Severus answered in an acid voice, drawing the word out with simmering anger. "Surely you remember the young witch you forced into my bed to further your own interests. You had no qualms with that 'small sacrifice,' as I believe you called it; even if the information you acquired was of questionable utility. Her name is  _Hermione_  and I damn well think I've earned the right to call her that." The bluster seemed to leave Albus in a huff and he suddenly looked as old and tired as he actually must be. It was frightening to see the old man look so  _defeated_.

"In another time, under different circumstances," he sighed, "I might be happy for you, Severus."

…*~*J*~*…

Hermione growled in frustration as she paced the length of the hallway. She had finally gotten the chance to talk to Severus… Why did  _everyone_  have to ruin  _everything?_ She huffed angrily, clenching and unclenching her fists. At least Sirius was nowhere to be found.

"Hermione!" Ginny's youthful excitement jarred her angry tension and made her glare at the other girl. "So glad I've found you," the other girl continued, willfully ignorant of her friend's sour mood, "you're missing out on all the fun! We're about to start a round of Truth or Dare. You  _have_  to play!"

"Ginny," Hermione reasoned, her anger falling weak next to the younger witch's happy enthusiasm, "do you honestly not see how disastrous that could be? Practically everything about my life right now is a damned secret."

Ginny snorted at her friend's awkward cursing and Hermione's lip twitched in acknowledgement. "'Mione…" the redhead whined, tugging on her arm, " _please?_  I've already had a talk with Ron and Harry about that, and we've agreed not to ask you anything you can't answer. Come on! It's a holiday! You can't avoid your friends forever."

Hermione groaned. The other girl had a point. She had been rather aloof and moody this Christmas. Maybe a good game with her friends was exactly what she needed to take her mind off of the spiraling drama that was Severus Snape. After all, life was about participation, wasn't it? As much as she wanted to slip behind a book and let the others have their fun, she knew deep inside that she'd be missing out. And really, what harm could it do?

The others were waiting in the library, thrown across the various couches and chairs in careless boredom. Fred was on the floor, scrutinizing a bit of parchment as he held it down with the tip of his wand.

"Guess who I've found?" Ginny called out as she skipped into the room.

"Brilliant!" George sat up, his mischievous smile making Hermione second-guess her decision to join the game. "It's no fun without a girl."

"Hey!" Ginny whapped her brother in the face with a pillow, but he laughed it off with a wicked grin.

"Sisters don't count."

"Alright," Fred called, not looking up from the parchment. "It's all ready. Just sign your names and we'll be ready to begin."

Hermione eyed the parchment doubtfully as the others took turns crouching down and scribbling their signatures. "Don't worry so much, 'Mione," Ginny whispered, "you'll be fine as long as you only pick 'Truth' with me, Harry and Ron. Besides, you aren't going to let all of that keep you from having fun forever, are you?"

Uncomfortable she may have been, but Hermione had to remind herself that many of the best things in life made her uncomfortable at first. And besides, she wasn't going to let Voldemort keep her from playing games with her friends. Who knew how much time she had left with them, after all? The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she quickly suppressed it.

Hermione was the last to sign her name and Fred withdrew his wand from the parchment. "Alright gang," he called out, "here's how it's going to go: I started this, so I'm first. I can ask any one of you wankers and you pick either Truth or Dare, but you  _have_ to do whatever I tell you to do. You've just signed a magical contract, after all." He winked and Hermione's heart plummeted. She'd been reading far too much about magical contracts, lately. "Once you've completed your task, it's your turn to choose the next victim." He took his time glancing around at each person present and Hermione's stomach filled up with dread. She had taken her seat on the floor across from Ginny, who was propped up against Harry's knees. George had claimed one of the two couches and Ron slipped off of his to join his siblings on the floor beside Hermione. She considered taking his place on the couch behind her, but decided that this game called for floor-sitting. It made her feel more grounded, somehow, and less vulnerable. "Ron!" Fred finally called out, making his younger brother jump and flush nervously. "Truth or Dare?"

Ron's shoulders seemed to square up as if in compensation for his display of fear. "Dare." An anxious intake of breath filled the room as Fred's grin spread evilly. It was then that Hermione realized just how perilous of a predicament hers was. She would  _have_  to choose Dare if one of the Weasley twins chose her. And that was decidedly bad news.

"A real man, eh Ronikins? No girly 'Truths' for this one. Noooo." Fred paused, staring wickedly at his brother and seeming to savor the fear slowly filling Ron's face. "I Dare you," he began in a low, dangerous tone, "to sneak into Mum's room and find a dress to wear for the rest of the game!" With that he burst into laughter and gave George a high five.

"Oh man!" Ron's fear turned into grouchy disappointment and rebellion as he dragged himself up off the floor and slumped angrily from the room.

"Our Dares may be daring," Fred said as they waited for the youngest Weasley boy to return, "but they're also ridiculous."

"Poor ickle Ronikins," agreed George, "he has so much to learn."

Just then, the door to the library banged open and Professor Snape appeared, looking furious. For a heartbeat, Hermione could only stare. And when her mind snapped to attention a second later, her lips were parted and her heart was hammering painfully in her chest. But he swept deliberately past them to the bookshelves and began to stalk the aisles.

The Weasley twins shrugged at each other as Ginny met Hermione's gaze. And behind the girl's questioning concern, there was something twinkling in those pretty, blue eyes.

"Shame Tonks isn't here," Fred commented idly. "She's crazy."

"That she is," George agreed, fondly. Hermione would have been more curious about their blatant interest in the Auror if a certain dark Professor's presence wasn't weighing on her mind. She was afraid to look directly at him, and still she knew exactly where he was as he moved amongst the books in silent contemplation. She could sense his anger and longed to ask him what the Headmaster had wanted.

A moment later, Ron returned in an overlarge, polka-dotted ensemble of his mother's and the whole room burst into sloppy, unrestrained laughter.

"That's better than I could have hoped!" Fred announced.

"You look like a clown!" agreed Ginny.

"Yeah, yeah, have your fun," Ron told them, resentfully. "You're lucky I made it here without bumping into anyone."

"It is my  _pleasure_  to disabuse you of that misconception, Mr. Weasley," Snape's voice interrupted from the shadows of the shelves as he stepped into the light with a book in hand. Even without his billowing teaching robes, the wizard's power seemed to dominate the room.

Ron's mouth was agape with horror and indignation as he turned to Hermione, "What's  _he_  doing here!?"

" _He_ ," Severus cut in before the angry redhead had the chance to blow their cover, "is making use of the Black Family Estate's  _only_  interesting resource; a room which, I assure you, is not your own."

"You're right," Harry cut in, antagonistically, "it belongs to Sirius. Care to take it up with  _him?_ "

Hermione's back snapped straight up at the sudden threat of an explosive fight between the wizards, but before Severus could launch into his usual tirade about the house not being in Black's charge as long as it was Order Headquarters, George interrupted. "As amusing as it would be to let this unfold, we've got a game to play."

"Though the Professor is certainly welcome to join in," Fred added, gesturing persuasively at the parchment.

"If he agrees to the rules," George added. "No exceptions for Professors, I'm afraid."

Severus's eyebrow lifted in disdain as he continued toward the group. "As tempting as your offer is, Mr. Weasley, I believe I'd rather choke on one of Kreacher's rags. Please, continue with your sophomoric diversion, and ignore my presence. I assure you, my attention will be  _entirely_  devoted to this text."

Hermione was not the only one to hear the tiniest note of danger in his tone; if Ginny's knowing smirk and Harry's and Ron's exchanged glance were any indication. His threat was made even more evident as he took his place on the remaining couch, directly behind Hermione (if a few feet away).

"Your loss, Mr. Snape," Fred consoled, shaking his head with mock incomprehension.

"But just a warning," George put in, "if you do stay, we will not be held responsible for any unwanted insight into the lives of your darling students that you wish you could shake from your head. This is 'Truth or Dare,' after all."

"Considering your line of business," drawled the professor in a dry tone, "it is not surprising to hear disclaimers roll instinctively off your tongue."

"Touché," grinned George.

"Right then," Fred said, shaking some of the tension out of the room with his eagerness to continue the game, "your turn to choose someone, Ronikins."

Ginny promptly burst into giggles, drawing a glare from Ron. She ignored him, her eyes communicating her mirth to the man behind Hermione before catching the other girl's eye and turning her gaze to the floor.  _What did I just miss?_

"Alright," Ron began, angrily, "Fred. Truth or Dare?"

"Honestly?" Fred laughed. As the youngest Weasley boy, Ron had a bit of a vengeful streak in him. "Right. I suppose I'll go with Truth, this time."

Ron's face fell before scrunching up again with anger. " _Truth?_  You choose  _Truth?_ " He pouted angrily for a minute, but the older boy was not about to retract his decision, and the others present were too busy laughing at poor Ron to sympathize. "Fine. Truth. Er…" He seemed to struggle a moment before an idea hit him. "What was it you two were whispering behind your hands about at breakfast?"

Fred raised an eyebrow and held his brother's stare for a moment before letting his face fall in disappointment. Pulling a hand down his face and shaking his head, he looked back at Ron with the most serious expression any of them had ever seen on a Weasley twin. "We were laughing about how touchy you get when you think somebody's talking about you."

Ron reddened angrily while the others laughed. Even Harry had a chuckle at his expense, and Hermione desperately wanted to turn to the man behind her to see if he was listening.

"Alright, Ginny," Fred announced happily, "Truth or Dare?"

"Truth, of course," she replied without hesitation.

Fred's lip twitched mischievously. "Tell us… Ginevra," he began, drawing it out like a tasty treat, "just how far have you and Potter over there gone?"

Ginny was hardly phased by his impertinence, merely lifting her chin a fraction and meeting him square in the eye. "I've shagged him."

Harry, on the other hand, turned bright red, rivaling Ron. Ron himself gaped up at his best friend in shock and betrayal as the twins guffawed. "You did  _what?_  You never told  _me!_ "

"Yeah, mate," George laughed, stretching out from his couch to slap Harry on the back, "how could you forget your boyfriend?"

"Honestly, Ron," Ginny drawled, rolled her eyes, "did you want to be included?"

All three Weasley boys drew back at that with matching expressions of revulsion and a collective shout of "Ewww!"

Ginny's laughter rang through the following silence as her brothers contemplated their disgust and Harry hung his head in embarrassment. Once again, Hermione wished she could see Severus's reaction. "Alright then," Ginny said into the silence, only emboldened more by her brothers' dismay, " _Hermione._ Truth or Dare?"

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat and began to throb with fear as her stomach constricted. It was her turn. Better to lie low with a simple "Truth."

Ginny's answering grin was so full of mischief that Hermione knew she'd made a mistake. Even the boys in the room seemed to have picked up on the danger and forgotten their disgust. Doubts and fears twisted in the cavity of her chest as the other girl's eyes flicked to the man on the couch behind her. This could not be good.

"Hermione," the pretty redhead began in a devious tone, "tell us…" they all seemed lean in and hold their breath, "what is your favorite sexual position." You could have heard a quill drop. Then, almost simultaneously, all of the boys' heads turned from Ginny to look at  _her._  Harry's and Ron's faces seemed to drain of color as the Weasley twins lifted their eyebrows and smirked. Fred whispered something to George who withdrew a coin and slapped it into his brother's hand.

"I-" she began, knowing that she was expected to answer and wondering what Severus was thinking. "I don't know…" It was such a personal question. Would Severus be angry with her for answering? Surely he must know that she had no choice. "Just… normal, I guess. I mean… missionary, I suppose it's called."

"Missionary, she supposes it's called," George repeated, turning to his brother.

"Only that's not really true," Ginny murmured, smacking her brother offhandedly and pointing down at the parchment, "is it?" Hermione's name had turned red against the paper. "It's your warning, Hermione. Next time you're out." Hermione's heart plummeted and her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. All attention was back on her and Ginny's eyes sparkled with wicked amusement. "So… what's the  _real_  answer, Hermione?"

"I-I…" Hermione inhaled deeply, letting herself think about the question. The real answer? Her favorite position? Her cheeks grew warm just thinking about him when he was so close behind her.  _Oh Merlin._ And then she knew the answer. "I like it when he's behind me."

Ginny guffawed and the twins gaped with disbelieving excitement as Harry and Ron mimicked retching and filled the air with noisy protests. Neither seemed able to look in her direction… or that of their professor. And the only one who did not respond was the one seated directly behind her.

"Alright, alright," Hermione cut in, embarrassed and feeling uncomfortable on display, "Harry. Truth or Dare?"

Harry gulped, his eyes darting to their Professor before returning to hers. "Dare," he said, seeming to consider that the wisest option. Oh no, now she had to come up with a Dare.

"Alright… I dare you…" She looked around the room, as if one of the books would leap up and hand her an idea. She could practically  _feel_  Severus's ears on her voice, waiting to judge whatever she eventually came up with. Was it daring? Was it weak? Was it too mischievous, or not mischievous enough? "I dare you to… to… kiss Buckbeak."

"Really?" Harry complained. "That's nothing. As long as I bow first, it's no big deal."

"Well I don't know," she whined defensively.

"It's too late, anyway," Ginny told them. "She already said it, so that's his dare."

"Alright then, guess we're headed to the attic." Harry dragged himself off of the couch, carefully maneuvering around Ginny's head. "Coming?" he asked the group at large. Only Hermione stood up.

"Nah," said George, "we'll take your word for it." The others seemed to sink farther into their comfortable positions in lazy contentment as they shook their heads. It made her face flame red with embarrassment and anger. Even if her Dare was stupid, did they have to be so mean about it?

They made it half-way up the stairs before Harry said a word to her. "You should have seen the way Snape glared at Ginny. I'd have run for it if I were her."

"I can't see him at all from where I'm sitting. S'pose he did that on purpose, though."

"He was bloody angry, I'll tell you that. Don't think the twins noticed, though. Or… I mean… nothing's really out of the ordinary about Snape glaring at people."

Hermione laughed. "I guess that's true."

They had made it to the attic door and Harry gestured for her to stand back, leading the way into the room and bowing to the Hippogriff. The kiss was a bit anticlimactic, she had to admit. He might as well have been kissing Crookshanks. But he was very good-natured about the whole thing, only teasing a little bit as they made their way back down the stairs.

The game continued on from there in a flurry of laughter and warmth. She felt lighthearted, somehow, playing games with her friends like a child. And that thought made her sad, because she suddenly realized that Severus didn't have that, and probably never would. The spy was far too reserved and stoic for silly games, even at Christmas. It made her want to reach out to him, to lean back against his knees and somehow draw him into their circle. He had even come as close as he could to joining in, but remained as far away as another dimension, reading his book while the game went on. Then again, she couldn't exactly reach out to him in front of the Weasley twins.

A sudden heat on her ring finger made Hermione gasp audibly, but no one seemed to notice over George's shirtless chicken dance. The Weasley twins didn't even take 'Truth or Dare' seriously. Careful not to be conspicuous, Hermione removed the Disillusionment Charm from her ring and lifted her hand to read the message.

_How much longer?_

Hermione bit her lip and raised her wand to the ring again.  _I do not know._

_How does the game end?_

_When we all lose._

When she looked up, she caught Ginny's eye.

"Hermione!" George called out as he reclaimed his seat. "Truth or Dare?"

Hermione's breath caught. She couldn't choose 'Truth.' "Dare."

"Ahaaaa!" the twins exclaimed together.

"Alright," said George, "I Dare you…" he seemed to consider a moment as a devilish grin grew across his face, "to stand up right where you are and take off your shirt." Hermione's heart sank painfully. " _But_ ," he continued with a wicked laugh, "you may either face us… or the Professor."

Well, that certainly could have been worse. She sent a knowing glance to Ginny who lifted an eyebrow in amusement. Ron and Harry were both avoiding looking at her, as if they suspected the man behind her might flay them alive. The choice was obvious, of course, but as she stood to face her Professor, the twins gasped and began to egg her on enthusiastically.

Severus was sitting at one end of the couch, his elbow resting on the arm. One ankle was crossed over his knee, creating a support for the large tome on his lap. As she turned to him, he tore his gaze from the text in order to stare unabashedly back at her, leaning back farther into the couch in a lazy gesture of indifference. His expression was one of apathy, but Hermione knew him better than that.

"Do it! Do it!" the twins encouraged, and Hermione slowly raised her soft sleep shirt over her head. She had not yet dressed for the day, as Ginny had accosted her on the way from breakfast, so she was not wearing a bra. Severus's eyes seemed to drink her in and the two were all but unconscious of the way the others laughed and jeered. Feeling bold, Hermione dropped the sleep shirt in his lap and stood there daring him to do something about it.

The tome on his lap snapped shut and Severus stood with slow, dangerous grace, allowing her sleep shirt to fall to the floor. His towering form was so close to hers that she could have leant into his embrace. And for a moment, all breath in the room was held tight as they waited to see what he would do. She stood her ground as his nearness seemed to threaten to overwhelm her. Then he turned on his heel, and swept from the room.

Hermione's chest slowly burned with aching disappointment and fear that she had angered him. Bereft, she bent to scoop up her night shirt; her cheeks on fire with embarrassment and desire as she redressed.

"Wonder what he's off to do in such a hurry," Fred laughed. Hermione turned in time to see the twins exchange a leering wink and almost felt the need to correct them.

But with Severus gone, apathy dragged her intentions into the pit of her stomach. And loneliness consumed her once again.

…*~*J*~*…


	50. Chapter 50

She was sitting alone in the library when he slipped through the door, silent as the moonlight across her face. And for a moment, he hesitated, unsure if it would not be wise to leave her there and retreat to the safe solitude of his own bedroom. But she was so compelling. He had not seen her since dinner, where the Weasley twins kept shooting him knowing, laughing looks which he attempted to ignore. She was beautiful; already back in her night clothes with her hair frizzled out as if with worry. Was she thinking of him?

He knew the moment that she noticed he was there. Choosing to go to her, he stepped soundless from the shadows, and she turned to him instinctively. It was almost too dark in the room to discern each other's faces, but Severus was certain that she knew who he was.

"Hello." Her voice was barely a whisper and the music of the silence around them seemed to consume it with heavy, illusory song. Yet he heard her, loud and clear.

"Hello," he echoed, seeming to break the fragile blanket of the night air with his deep baritone. He went to her and took his place beside her on the couch.

Her eyes were on the fingers twisting anxiously in her lap, but her breathing hitched and she almost seemed to pant lightly as their nearness made the darkness hum with energy. "I'm sorry about earlier," she confessed in a hurry. He smiled. Nothing about earlier had really bothered him at all, besides his own inability to take her on the floor right then and there. And what would those blasted Weasley twins have thought of that?

But the Weasleys were not present now.

"I only meant to play a game with them," she continued when no answer was forthcoming. "Ginny talked me into it. I felt bad avoiding them all day and thought 'what could it hurt?' But I should have known better. I shouldn't have agreed to play..."

Severus brought the tips of his fingers to her lips in an effort to silence her, and the tiniest gasp against his skin sent electric shivers down his spine. He allowed his fingertips to linger, sweeping lightly across the swelling softness of her lips. And her mouth fell open to caress him sweetly with the heat of a whispering sigh. When he withdrew his fingers, it was only to replace them with his lips.

She moaned into his mouth as he slowly tasted her, reaching a hand into her hair to hold her captive. A wave of tender urgency swept through him and he tightened his grip, pulling her head back relentlessly to expose the glowing skin of her pale throat. And as he slipped his tongue between her teeth, his hand came up to circle her neck, searching for her pulse with a tender touch before gripping her gently with the restrained force of passion long repressed.

Hermione whimpered urgently beneath his hand, her helpless desire burning a straight path to his groin. He needed her. And as he moved his mouth from her lips to her jaw and her neck and pressed his crooked teeth into her pale flesh, she moaned with unrestrained ardor and whispered into the dark, "Severus." It was like a plea as her little hands came up to tangle in his hair. "I missed you."

At that, he pulled away, and met her eyes by moonlight. "Forgive me," he answered gruffly; the apology slipping past his vigilant façade of indifference before he knew what he had said. It came so naturally. Odd. "I have not been entirely honest with you," he confessed in a sturdier tone, his professional attitude returning in a rush. But there was no suspicion in her eyes at his admission. She trusted him. And something inside him seemed to crack at that, allowing a bit of his mask to dissolve, like sugar in a cauldron. "Hermione," he whispered tenderly, splaying his fingers across her cheek. She raised her own hand to cover his and smiled sweetly, openly into his eyes. There was nothing he wanted more in the world.

But was that really best for her? She was too young, too innocent, too… good. She could do so much better than a man twice her age fated to die or be forever branded a criminal. "Hermione," he began again with a regretful sigh, "there is much you do not know about me." Rebellion sparkled in her eyes, but he cut her off before she had a chance to argue. "I gave my life to the Cause when you were just a babe. I have done unspeakable things…"

"Sev…"

"Listen to me, Hermione. As fiercely as you may endeavor to sweep my history beneath the carpet, the facts remain. I need you to understand…"

"But…"

" _Hermione_ , I will likely  _die!_ "

The library might have been empty for the silence.

" _No_ ," she argued weakly, the beginnings of tears in her eyes.

"I have never expected to survive this War."

"You  _will_ ," she told him.

"I might," he allowed. "But there is very little chance of that." He let the finality of his statement sink into the darkness of the room. "The point is, Hermione, you would do better not to attach yourself to me."

"Ridiculous!" she spat, anger shining in her teary eyes.

"If not for your abduction and subsequent curse, our involvement never would have come to be. You would have found someone more…  _appropriate_ …"

"I don't  _want_  someone more  _appropriate!"_ she shouted. Then, taking a steadying breath, she continued in a softer voice. "I want  _you_. Don't be daft. It doesn't matter  _how_  we ended up together; just that we  _did._ You can dwell on possibilities and hypotheticals all day, but I'm  _here_.  _Now._ " She reached for his hand and clutched it desperately in both of hers, tears racing across her face, sparkling with fragments of the stars. "No one ever knows how much time they have left, and I am just as likely to die in this War as you are." He drew breath to dispute this notion—the very idea too terrible to contemplate—but she was having none of it. "What I  _do_  know is that I am happy when I am with you. And I care about you immensely." This time, he was at a loss for words. Then her lips turned up in a secret smile and she almost seemed to laugh. "We are afforded few enough joys in this life, Severus. Why deny yourself something when it 's begging to be yours?"

"Maybe  _it_  doesn't know any better."

She brought her hand to his face and he flinched at the contact, but he steadied himself, and allowed her to touch him softly. It made him feel vulnerable and exposed, having her inspect him so carefully, slowly tracing his features with her fingertips. " _It_ ," she whispered as her thumb brushed across his bottom lip, "is a know-it-all." She smiled humorously, her eyes glinting through the dark, and he found himself laughing… on the inside.

But then her smile faded and her expression grew serious and wary. "Haven't you ever heard that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?"

Even Severus's breath froze in fright at her words. It was the first mention of love between them; not that she was admitting to the sentiment. "Tennyson," he told her in a breath, afraid of her silence and the potential it invoked, "but he neglected to mention how excruciating that can be." Comprehension dawned in her eyes and she pulled away from him, looking down at her knees in contemplation.

He felt her loss.

"I'm not Lily," she told him in a whisper.

That was hardly relevant. Determined not to let her look away from him right now, he turned her face to his with a finger beneath her chin. "No," he told her in a tone laden with meaning, "you are not." But her eyes filled up with tears at that and she turned her face away. Had she taken it the wrong way? "Hermione, I am not afraid that you are going to hurt me." And to his astonishment, that was the truth. "I would like nothing more than to spend my life with you." Happy tears escaped her eyes at that proclamation and he hurried to clarify. "But my happiness is not worth your pain."

To his amazed confusion, she began to laugh lightly. It was a sad sound. "Severus," she told him, shaking her head and meeting his eye, "if anything were to happen to you, I would be devastated." Well, that was just entirely the point, wasn't it? "And nothing you do," she continued, staring pointedly into his eyes, "is ever going to change that."

And he realized, suddenly, that she was right. This was something he had been attempting to overlook for weeks— months maybe. It was already too late. They were in too deep. It didn't matter anymore how far they fell, for they were already past the point of no return.

She was clutching his hands in her own, slowly massaging the palms with her thumbs, and brought one up to press against her cheek. Panic and freedom seemed to fall over him at once. Maybe he could be with her. The thought was too dangerous to consider; and yet, he had avoided considering it for a very long time. But maybe… maybe he really could. She was right here, and she was willing—more than willing, practically begging—and was there really anything standing in their way? Alright, besides the dark lord and Albus Dumbledore… and her family… and Molly Weasley… and the board of governors… and social decorum in general.

But then she leaned toward him and caught his breathless lips with hers. And suddenly none of them mattered; not a single, bloody one of them.

…*~*J*~*…

There was a question in her kiss, and Hermione knew that his response would be her answer. So she poured all the tenderness and passion that she felt for him into that simple touch, caressing his mouth with her own. She needed him to know how much she needed him. And to her relieved elation, he answered her with as much sweet sentiment as she had shown for him, reaching a hand into her curls and slipping his tongue out to test the broken boundary of her lips. She nipped at him, begging him to enter her; to connect with her. And he complied.

When her tongue reached out to rub against his own, Severus growled in primal satisfaction. He had never felt closer to the girl beside him than he did right now. Their mouths slanted over one another as their tongues intertwined, a battle foreshadowing what they both hoped next to come. He would be content to kiss her until the dawn cracked across the sky.

Overwhelmed by happiness at his proximity, Hermione reached a leg across his lap until she was straddling him. His answering growl vibrated deep inside of her, stirring the kindling of a fierce fire. She melted against his chest, linking her arms behind his neck and poured herself into their kiss. It was all she could do not to burst into flame as his hands slipped down to cup her bum, pulling her tight against the firm bulge in the front of his trousers.

He could feel her heat through all the layers of clothing that separated them. And he wanted her, perhaps more than he ever had before. She was  _his_  for true this time, as he reached his fingers beneath the soft cotton of her night shirt, sliding them up the hot skin of her sides. When he cupped her breasts, their mouths broke apart in simultaneous gasps of pleasure. But he was quick to recapture her, expressing without words what he wanted to happen next.

His hands against her bare skin sent electricity to her core, and she began to rub her body against him as she slid her hands to his chest and began to undo his buttons. Was it really necessary to wear a bloody frock coat in the middle of the night? She made quick work of relieving him of it and ran her fingers over his cotton-covered flesh, longing to be nearer and nearer to him, as if she could somehow melt their bodies into one.

Her eagerness drove the fierce desire burning deep inside him as she impatiently sought to strip him of his clothes. He broke her kiss and pushed her away only far enough to see the look in his eyes as he silently expressed his wishes. Smirking, she brought her hands to the soft hem of her own night shirt and slowly lifted it over her head. Severus collapsed back against the couch, devastated by her beauty and the sweet epiphany that she was his. When she dropped the garment in his lap, he sank his fingers into it, bringing it to his face to feel its softness against his skin and inhale the spicy sweetness of Hermione.

The raw desire in his eyes made her whimper in despair. He was hers. And he was here. Their eyes connected as she brought her fingers to the buttons of his shirt. And one by one, she unfastened them, continuing on to the closure of his trousers. Then she pushed his shirt open and brushed across his flesh with kisses full of aching tenderness. Her tongue darted out to taste his skin, laving him with wet heat, and he moaned in capitulation as she bent to sink lower.

When Hermione sank between his legs, Severus lost the ability to think. All he knew was her hot softness and the feel of her wet mouth on his stomach. She yanked his trousers lower and next thing he knew, her teeth were nipping at his thigh. Groaning in agony, he wrapped his fingers in her hair, begging her not to tease him anymore. And she complied. The softest caress of her mouth against the tip of his cock made his head fall back in ecstasy. And then her tongue began to swath sweet heat into his flesh and he was lost to her softness, oblivious to everything else in the world. In that way, she teased him until a molten heat began to fill his belly, but he was not ready to be done.

Severus pushed her away and beckoned her back onto his lap. She did so slowly, slipping out of her sleep shorts to straddle his bare thighs. He moaned with feral need as she positioned him against her flesh. Ah, but she was not finished teasing him. Meeting his mouth in a soft, passionate kiss, she rubbed herself along his length and gasped at the resulting spark of molten pleasure. Twice, thrice, a dozen times she pressed against him thus, eliciting whimpers of tortured desire from the man beneath her. Finally, she wrapped her tongue around his, and pushed him deep inside.

Their mouths broke apart in ecstasy when he finally filled her. This was the way their bodies were built to connect. And there was nothing better in the whole, wide world. His hands roamed against her flesh as she began to move against him, panting in sweet delight at their nearness and her pleasure. She was so tight; so wet; so beautiful.

He filled her body with delicious agony and Hermione couldn't seem to get enough. She thrust against him on the couch as hot pleasure seemed to blind her in its intensity. She was seeing stars. Faster and harder she pressed herself against him as he panted with restraint and ecstasy. She watched as he sank three fingers into his mouth and brought them down to press against the little nub between her folds. That friction, as she rocked against him with increasing desperation, struck a nerve like a spark to a barrel of gunpowder, and immediately a rush of hot pleasure filled her core.

"Oh gods!" she cried out, and Severus knew she was about to come. He felt her tighten and quake around him and finally allowed himself to let go.

"Oh… Severus!" Her pleasure ignited within her, filling her in a flash with electric heat as fire coursed to every nerve ending in her body. She broke apart as waves of rapture shook her to the core, releasing her from the confines of this earth.

At the sound of his name on her voice, Severus gave in to his own desire and burst within her, convulsing with hot pleasure as he pulled her tight against him and filled her with his seed. With one last shuddering gasp, he collapsed back against the couch, and she on top of him. They wrapped their arms around one another and softly panted into the darkness. They were together now, and he'd be damned if he let anyone get in the way of that.

Hermione breathed in the heady scent of Severus, her nose against his neck. She never wanted to be parted from him again. And for once, it seemed that she just might get her wish. As they caught their breath, she lifted herself up to face him once more and pressed her tender mouth to his. Tears streamed unbidden from her eyes as they kissed; two lovers melting together with tears and tenderness.

Then, suddenly, there was a bang as the door flew open behind her and a light filled the room. She yelped in fright and started to leap away from him, but Severus only tightened his hold, thrusting her face into his hair. And somehow, she was sure that it was Sirius.


End file.
